I'm Going Home
by bubble-rouge08
Summary: SMACked Season4 spoilers. Mac was in London. Stella was taking care of NYC whilst he was gone. But who's taking care of themselves?
1. In London

_**A/N: Hello again. As promised, a new pre-s4 fic.**_

_**With all the spoilers coming out and all the theorizing that's going on, I've decided to pre-empt the PTB. After all, they **_**stole**_** the s4 e1 idea from me hahahahahah! J/K! XD**_

_**Anyway, the song is Daughtry's "Home". And the whole thing is chockfull of spoilers and possibilities. This whole part practically wrote itself. Uhm… this is a far cry from all the fluff and Dylan and Mara – I'm back to angst, people.**_

_**So here you go. I hope you enjoy. Thank you!**_

**CSINYCSINYCSINY**

**I'M GOING HOME**

**© CATE**

She said that she did her research and found out that I only skipped five and a half days of work since I joined the NYPD. She said that I have seven _weeks_ of vacation time collected through the years. She said that I went through and have been going through a lot lately.

_She said that I adored her._

And she was right about those – including the part where I _adored_ her. I know I wasn't showy about it but I really do. It's hard not to like Dr. Peyton Driscoll. She's this very thoughtful, sweet and cheerful lady but under that, a very strong and determined character. She's good at taking care of people – dead or alive, as our inside joke went. She also a very amiable person who doesn't ask much questions… just _listened_ – something I needed the most when I was most down.

I think those are reasons why I fell in love with her. I never thought that I'd be the first one to break my personal rule of not having romantic relationships with people I work with. So far, I had been successful – mainly because I was married for some years while I was in the force. My wedding ring and the home I shared with my wife was an easy reminder of that rule I placed upon myself.

Then I met Peyton. It was a forensics convention sponsored by Columbia where she taught. There was a fifteen-minute break during the discussion of 'Flintstones Forensics'. I took the time to get something to drink, the water fountain being the one closest to the auditorium. I was drinking and then I heard that distinct English accent behind me, "You know, the committee has set up a beverage table on the other end of this hall. Detective."

When I spun around, there she was… all smiles and _shy_, her eyes weren't meeting mine. She was dressed in corporate attire; the only hint that she was a doctor was her nametag: _Peyton Driscoll, M.D._ She offered me her hand and introduced herself. Apparently, I was sitting in front of her during the talk about 'Bodies and the Water' the day before. "You were the only one on your row who's still awake when the speaker stepped off the podium," she chuckled. "That's how I remembered you."

"Well, I was interested even if I'm not a medical examiner," I explained, realizing that I was still holding her hand. Slowly, I pulled away and said, "I guess you are an ME." _Way to go, Taylor. What an intelligent thing to say._

She chuckled. "I am, in fact," she said, pausing to read my nametag, "_Mac Taylor_."

"Oh sorry," I forgot to introduce myself. "Forensics… First Grade," I explained. "I head my own shift actually."

"Is that so, Detective?" she said with her eyebrow up. There was a glint in her eyes and I was drawn to them. I just had to smile as blush crept up my cheeks. She was hugging the folders to her chest as we stood there in silence. There was something about this woman.

What happened next was uncontrollable but foreseeable. We exchanged numbers and from there, we started to meet up for movies, the opera… those simple things. I was having a hard time 'classifying' what we had; was it friendly or otherwise? There was no denying that I was attracted to her. But was the feeling mutual?

Apparently, it was. She invited me to go in with her by the fourth month of our unofficial relationship. It was one night where I forgot all my troubles, namely the crap I got from both IAB and one of my investigators about the death of Officer Minhaus; also something that concerned gangs and the mafia and _that same _investigator from my team; and finally, it was _that _night that I came into terms with my wife's untimely death. After four years… _I wasn't alone anymore._

She showed me how to live again. She showed me how good it felt to be cared for, to be touched. She made me realize how far away I was from the people around me. And she brought me back from the hole I dug for myself.

We went officially steady after that. As far as everything so far sounds like what a sixteen-year-old boy would say, it happened that way. I guess love makes one feel young again. But one thing always held me back from proclaiming it to the whole of New York City that 'I love Peyton' – and it's not my silly rule or the job, heck not even myself.

I was afraid. _To hurt somebody_. I was afraid to hurt _another woman_. The woman who stayed when so many else left. The woman who first made me smile after that September. The woman I called my _best friend_. The woman named _Stella_.

_**I'm staring out into the night**_

_**Trying to hide the pain**_

"When processing the stomach contents – pumped or in the case of corpses, manually taken out – do not be apprehensive to be hands-on about it. What I meant by 'hands-on'…" Peyton explained. King's College London held a conference and Peyton was invited to address the students as well as the faculty. An audience full of doctors and pre-meds filled the theater.

I believe her exact words to me were, "I'm going to speak at a pathologist's conference and I just thought it would be fun for us to both go, you know? I can show you around London." That was what she said back in New York as her _invitation_. An invitation to "Spend time with me". And she made sure I wouldn't say no.

"You bought the ticket?" I said, stating the obvious and hiding my surprise at the same time.

"I really want you to say yes," she said, batting her eyelashes. What a way to quash everything I've planned for the weeks ahead.

At first, I struggled to find a way to refuse. Even as far as paying her back what she spent on the tickets. But an incident interrupted the whole day and she – _again_ – took the back seat from my list of priorities.

Going into the ordeal, I still kept on thinking how to turn her offer down gently. Soaking wet, trying to not get killed, carrying heavy artillery… and I was thinking of ways to say no to my girlfriend whom I lost once before.

But something happened that made me decide to just say yes. I was standing in the hallway after the water stopped and the chaos was over. I saw Stella walking over to me and she gave me a hug. The warmth in that hug came down on me like a ton of bricks. She was there with me in that building – when the gas leaked, when the intruders attacked, when the water came down; she easily could have gone with the others outside to escape. But she didn't. She came to check on me. And she became trapped in there with me.

I felt a jolt in my system as I felt her equally wet skin and clothes against mine. Her hair, heavy with water was soft against my cheek. It took everything in me not to squeeze her with everything I have left. When we separated and she walked away, _that_'s when I decided to go to London with Peyton.

_Go to_ London. _Away from_ New York City. Even if it's just for _ten days_.

That _something_ I felt at that moment scared me. I made myself believe that if I go with Peyton, I won't be dealing with that _something_ for a while. I bought myself time to think about it… to sort it out. But in truth, I confused_ buying time _with _running away_. With _getting away_.

I needed a diversion, anything to block out that feeling. And Peyton's talk at King's College London worked for a while. First, I was amused at how appropriate that a doctors' and investigators' talk was held here – alma mater of the DNA structure founders. Second, I was glad at how we were very much welcomed. And then, I enjoyed listening to the speakers.

Yet not long after, I found myself staring out the window closest to where I was seated. It wasn't that dark, thanks to the cloudless night and streetlights lining the walkway. It was cool and calm – a far cry from the wildness of my city. I dug my hands into my coat pockets and chewed on my lip.

Somehow, not naming that _jolt_; that _feeling_; that _something_ made it easier for me to forget about it. But it never really went away completely. It went with me to London and it had been nagging me since I spaced out. I couldn't place a finger on it… but it made it so clear that it was about Stella.

How scared she must have felt when we parted ways to cover more ground. How relieved she looked like when we saw each other in that hallway. How _confident_ she looked with a big gun in her hands. How soft her hair was against my cheek even when wet. How well her shirt fit…

"And that is all for tonight. Thank you." The thunderous applause snapped me back to reality. Some of the attendees were standing. I realized I was moist from sweat even if it is cold inside the room. From where I sat, I saw Peyton step off the stage and shake hands with the administrators.

Her smile reached me and I forced one back. It wasn't the same. It wasn't as easy as with…

_Stop it_, I said to my brain. _Damn you,_ I said to my… _heart_?

She was walking over to me, her smile ever widening. She leaned closer to my ear and whispered suggestively, "We still have the whole night, Mac. I'm sure at this time we can already order in and spend the night inside."

_Damn you, woman… I'd be doing those same things now even if I'm back in New York. _Not really an answer to satisfy my girlfriend. Especially if I add this: _Ordering in and having dinner at my place – with my best friend_, a woman.

"I think I can manage that," I whispered back, holding her hand in mine. I hope she'd ignore how clammy my hand was, how my eyes looked blank.

I needed something to keep me from _realizing_ something very big and life changing.

She drove us straight to her flat, picking up some French food along the way. Leaving the half-eaten food on her dining table, champagne in the icebox… we didn't make it to bed. "Couch's big enough," she said, puling us to it. Peyton wrapped her arms around my neck; her head – _hair_ – against my cheek, in a hug that was painfully familiar… and it took everything I had not to call out another name.

For me, to this day, _that _was the _moment_ when I realized that I, Mac Taylor, _love_ Stella Bonasera.


	2. In New York

_**A/N: Wow. Thank you for the great reviews the pilot chapter received. I hope it goes on to the last chapter. Although I'm not sure how long this would go on to.**_

_**I'm feeling emotional right now – and hey, I have the flu haha. So please, cheer me up with your comments and reviews.**_

_**This is back in New York… Stella's turn to think.**_

**CSINYCSINYCSINY**

_**I'm going to the place where love**_

_**And feeling good don't ever cost a thing**_

_**And the pain you feel's a different kind of pain**_

I wonder why he hadn't called me yet. Well, not that I was expecting him to call – I mean, he's on vacation… why on earth would he call anyone from work?

It had been four days since Mac left for London with Peyton. After all these years, his 5.5 days missed from work would become _fifteen_-point-five. How did I know about that? Easy. I was the one who forced, coerced, bullied, _begged_ him to take some days off after 9/11. I told him I would take care of everything whilst he's resting – just like what I'm doing now.

Come day three, I found him seated in his old office when I came in after a deposition. When I almost screamed at him about it – that was the time when his office still had soundproof walls – he gave me the most unexpected but very understandable reason:

"I don't want to be alone, Stella. I really don't." His eyes were looking down, moist from tears threatening to fall. I don't think anyone, with the exception of myself, has ever seen Mac Taylor cry.

He sat down heavily on his chair and controlled himself with a few measured breaths. Ah screw the see-through-ness of his office… I knelt down beside him, trying to catch his eyes. I held his hand and I said, "If you want, I could stay with you." In all sincerity.

"Stella, I couldn't ask that from you," he stammered. "The lab needs you."

"Yeah, and clearly – you need me too," I countered. I saw his eyes widen in surprise. "What I meant was… you need company," I revised when tact came back to me.

He sighed. I knew he wasn't having any of it.

"Look," I started again, "You _need_ to get some time off. All these that's happening, it affects us all. And I know damn well how it affects and _will affect_ you." He finally looked up and met my eyes. "Mac, grieve for Claire. There's nothing wrong on being sad and angry and hell, _miserable_. We all are… in our own way, we grieve for a lost loved one, we grieve for someone who lost somebody. We grieve for the city."

That seemed to knock some sense into the man because he said, "I know." Yet what he said next knocked the air out of my lungs, "Will you be there for me?"

Choking back the tears and kicking myself for having the ability to cry easily, I said, "Of course, Mac! _Always._" I was overwhelmed but conscious enough to know that I could not embrace him. But I did when we shared a dinner of veal Parmesan later that night.

That counted three days off my leave allotment. But it was all worth it.

Those were the days when I single-handedly put smiles on Mac Taylor's face. I was the only one he trusted enough to pour his heart out to – the only one who understood him. I got to him like no one else could. And honestly, I felt most appreciated during those moments I spend with him.

But now… I don't know. Was I sharing my spotlight? Or was I pushed off of it in favor of another frontrunner? Not that I mind – it's great that he'd started to go out again. Keeping to himself, staying inside all the time… that's a waste of a good man. And Mac Taylor _is_ one of those indeed.

Whilst he's in London with his girlfriend, Dr. Peyton Driscoll, he appointed me to run the lab in his place. He even lent me his office while I was at it. Our co-workers were at awe when they heard the _order_ (that I can take his office). Mac's office is more 'home' to him than is own house.

But here I was… on his swivel chair, looking around the neat room (unusual for a guy), the lab (that's how he knows everything that's going on – this spot could see all around), and the people working in the lab. Clearly not the first time I sat on his 'throne'; he rarely lets anyone sit on his office chair. Just goes to show how much he trusts me.

"Fits you perfectly, Stella," Sheldon said when he popped his head in. "Good for six days more?" We shared a laugh.

"Knowing Mac, I reckon that Peyton hid all phones from him so he couldn't check in on us. Especially on me about the condition of his office," I said, letting him in. "Oh heck, let him have fun. He'll call if he feels like it."

Sheldon sat on one of the other chairs. "And the fact that he hasn't yet, tells me that he trusts you very much. With the lab _and _his office." He laughed but I only smiled shyly. _Sheldon, he trusts me with more than that_. Well, at least… he used to.

I must've spaced out because the next thing I realized was the man before me was waving his hand in front of my face. I reddened right away. "Sorry…" I forced a laugh, which I hoped was convincing. "Remembered an inside joke."

And then out of the blue, he asked, "How long was the longest time you spent _without_ Mac in the picture?" In another time, maybe, I might've been offended by his question and the seriousness in which he presented it. But for some weird reason, I turned numb. The implication of my spacing out was clear as crystal.

Seeing that there was no use lying to the man sitting in front on me, I heaved a sigh and said, "Since I met the man… the first two years at the job. Since 9/11… _never_." That told something. Mac and I have known each other, worked together for close to 15 years and every single time something happens in my life, he's always there.

And I was in his, too.

Between the two of us, he was the listener and I was the talker. Even when I was dating, I would call him up or drop by his place whenever the date turned sour. We would stay up until all the late night shows are over, just sharing a pot of beverage and his couch. And he would just _listen_ to my bitching.

Sure he would offer some words of encouragement or advise, letting me know that he was on my side even if there were times I'd attack his kind (the _male_ species) and their guts. Sometimes, he would argue with me about it.

That Rose woman didn't count under 'Mac's dates'. Turned out, she just wanted to talk. Her words were, "I was working up the courage to talk to this _guy_." She invited Mac for a drink – without even asking what his name was – and that's about it. _Talk_. And to think I dressed him up for that occasion.

"You'll find the right one sooner or later, Stell," he told me once. "And when you do, you won't expect it. It'll just happen." Wise words from someone who has not gone out for the longest time.

After that, I met Frankie. Oh how well that went.

Looking back now, that episode between Frankie and myself… _that's_ my 9/11. It was for many reasons. Mac lost his wife in the Towers; I lose my security in my own home. He lost his other half; I lost my trust with the opposite sex. And most of all, in our times of trouble – _we took care of each other_.

And then the phone rang. Without thinking of what Sheldon would think, I snatched the phone from its cradle and said a rather forceful, "Hello?" But it wasn't him. "Yes, we're on our way." After hanging up, I turned to Sheldon and, more like sighed than said, "Floater in Central Park. Jennifer will meet you there. Take Danny with you."

"Hang in there, Stell," he said before exiting the office and looking for his colleague.

**CSINYCSINYCSINY**

_Ladybrin – haha, don't worry. There'll be more Dylan and Mara and Maggie in the future._

_Weavered by Weaver – thanks so much!_

_Ukgirl17 – hahah, I think I could remedy that._

_Mj – ayus lang yan. She brought it upon herself naman eh hahaha!_

_Mandi – well, I'm not really a fan of Daughtry or the 5__th__ season of American Idol but I LOVE the song._


	3. The Parents

_**A/N: Hey there! Sorry this took too long. Been reading "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows". I actually finished it in 1.3 days. Hahaha… I'm still an HP fan after all. But I'm one big Harry Potter theorist, you can count on that.**_

_**Anyway, back to angst/fluff. I hope you like this part. Keep the reviews coming please; they're my elixir of life. Haha!**_

**CSINYCSINYCSINY**

_**Well I'm going home**_

_**Back to the place where I belong,**_

_**And where your love has always been enough for me**_

"Mum, Dad, Celia and Nicholas," she said in a high pitch as if nervous, "I would like you to meet Mac Taylor, my… _boyfriend_." I forced a smile – not the first or the last for this trip. Day five and Peyton decided for us to have dinner with her parents. And I supposed that her brother and sister being there wasn't a coincidence.

"Dr. Ronald Driscoll," her burly father said, offering his hand to me. She had mentioned before that it was her father who wanted her to become a doctor like him. He was slightly balding, more salt in his remaining hair than pepper but he had warm and welcoming eyes. "This is my wife Wilma." I shook both their hands.

They stepped aside to let their other kids be introduced. "I'm Celia McFadden," the short and blonde woman beside Wilma Driscoll said. Her accent was a bit hard for me to decipher. Peyton also said that they spent some time in Ireland and her brother-in-law was Irish. "Nice to finally meet you, Mr. Taylor." She was very motherly; Peyton said that Celia has three little boys and a newborn girl. Them and a job as a paralegal.

"Pleasure is all mine," I said. "And please, it's Mac."

"Peyton here has told us a lot of good things about you, Mac Taylor," her _younger_ brother said. The guy, Nicholas, was 6'2" easy, blue eyes and brown hair. His voice was stern and his eyes were a bit hard as if sizing me up. "I trust that you are good to my sister?" Oh yeah, he's the overprotective one. His grip was firm. I would expect nothing less from a part-time Aikido instructor.

"Nicholas," his mother reprimanded, "that is not a way to treat a guest. Not to mention your sister's beau." She turned and faced me. Now, I know where Peyton got her looks. "I'm terribly sorry about that." I smiled and brushed it off.

All the while, Peyton was silently watching her family. "Uhm… now that we all know each other," she said, "I could smell Mum's famous pot roast from here."

We all took that as a sign to get on with dinner. Any further conversations will occur around the table. After we said our graces, 'Ronnie' started to pass the food. Peyton made it a point that she'd serve me food as it was passed. Nicholas started telling us about his new idea of an advertisement for… I don't know, some new breakfast cereal or something his company was endorsing. As far as I noticed, none of us were even remotely interested.

Celia took reins instead. "So Mac… uh, my little sister mentioned before that you work for the New York police. It's a pretty scary job," she said after a drink. "Considering your city has one of the highest crime rates. Boy, that keeps you busy as well, doesn't it, Peyton?"

Her little sister blushed at that. And I thought I did, too. Wilma – she insisted that I call her by her first name – discreetly reprimanded her older daughter. Somehow, the statement came out wrong. It took Celia a few moments to realize that and kept silent.

_Well, that started out real nice._ There were moments where the clinking of silverware against china was heard. Until Nicholas said, "Have you watched 'Midsommer Murders'?"

"Oh it's that little fictitious town where the crime rate is allegedly higher than that of New York, Mac," Peyton supplied for me. "It is a TV show…"

I had to sigh. Yes, I knew what the show was and in fact, have watched it a couple of times with… _oh brain, let us not go there_. I met Peyton's eyes as if telling her to stop and nodded to her brother.

"Oh good," he chuckled, "our contribution to those police shows. I have a special liking to one of your American programmes…" he paused tapping his chin with a long finger. " Ah… a good one. 'Law and Order' and the other two spin-offs."

I tried my hardest to appear impressed and I hoped I was convincing. I focused on my food and tried to speak the least number of words unless I was asked something. Basically, Ronnie and Wilma were the ones doing the asking – what I did exactly, where I studied, my tour with the USMC, 9/11 (wasn't surprised at all upon learning about my having a wife before meeting their daughter). Celia supplied all the nodding and enthusiastic encouragements and, "More vegetables? Do you want some more of the soup, Mac?" From the other end of the table, Nicholas provided all the sneers, blasé expressions and chugging down most of the iced tea.

Peyton, on the other hand, did most of the nervous talking and the explaining. She wanted that dinner to be, "Perfect, sweetheart. I mean, growing up, I wasn't very lucky with the men – _boys_ – I introduce to my parents. I want them to see that now, I made the right choice."

So far, she hasn't done any of that. It was clear to me that her parents and older sister didn't need much convincing or warming up to. It was her younger brother that I had to watch out for. Every time I would say something good about my self, my achievements… say, the commendation I got from the bombing that almost killed Flack; Nicholas would have a side comment or a facial expression to go with it.

"Our lab is now one of the leading crime laboratories in the USA," I explained. "Not to mention the NYPD has one of the most efficient police force." Ronnie raised his glass at that. "My team of investigators is, by far, the best in all five boroughs. And that is bias aside."

"Mac has this principle that we only believe the evidence," Peyton, once again, interrupted. She was a bit jumpy, explaining with her words and her hands. "His team is also one of the best ones I have ever worked with."

I had to smile at that. I was glad she thought the same. But Nicholas had to dash that as well. "Is that so?" he said blankly. "Well then, that is all splendid but haven't you mentioned that you lost your first wife during the September 11 attacks?" I wasn't sure where he was going with that but I nodded. "Took you a very long time to _get back into the scene_." He paused and glared at me. I could see his parents' and sisters' eyes were all at him. "Or is my sister not the first one?"

At that point, I was seeing red. Clearly, _overprotective_ is an understatement for this guy. I placed my knife safely out of my hand and stared back at him. I didn't even notice Ronnie standing up and literally manhandling his son out of the room while Wilma screamed at him. Celia was out of her chair, stopping Peyton from hitting Nicholas – who had a very smug look on his face.

I knew I had to get out of there. _And fast_. I wasn't in New York; this was not my jurisdiction. I had to stop myself before I could do something I might regret. With a nearly inaudible, "Excuse me," I exited the dining room and the Driscoll house altogether. I heard Peyton call after me but I ignored her.

The night was cold but I was so mad that I didn't feel the temperature change. I had to walk off the steam. What Nicholas Driscoll said had some truth in it, I must admit. It did take me years to 'get back into the scene'. After all, I wasn't that kind of guy who would go out with random women I met in a bar. I would go to such places with friends and/or co-workers or maybe just to drown my sorrows. I would have become an alcoholic had I not found another way of dealing with things.

And then I realized that it has been seven days since I last talked to _her_. I entrusted her the lab while I'm here yet that is the farthest away from my mind. It was a conscious effort for me to _not_ pick up my phone and call her. I knew hearing her voice would be my undoing.

I've spent the last week trying to bury the feelings I _knew_ I had for a certain someone back home. But it kept on coming back from where I hid it – presented itself to me like an open bloom.

Nicholas was right. _Peyton wasn't the first one_. There was someone who _came_ before her – who would always _come_ before her. And she was the number one reason why I hadn't looked for someone else for the past five years.

I took out my mobile phone and dialed the one number I knew by heart.

"Bonasera."

**CSINYCSINYCSINY**

_Mandi – well, we'll see about that. I mean, Mac has come to that conclusion about what he feels about Stella. Idk, about her._

_Apodrru – I hope you're liking this._

_MJ – I'm always nice to Peyton. I mean, I haven't killed her yet haha. Hanggang sampal pa lang, remember?_


	4. The Loveseat

_**A/N: Halloo! My back hurts haha.**_

_**But all them reviews made me feel better. Keep them coming, will you? **_

_**Thanks very much and enjoy!**_

**CSINYCSINYCSINY**

_**I'm not running from**_

_**No, I think you got me all wrong**_

_**I don't regret this life I chose for me**_

"I'm coming home," was all I heard from the other line before it went dead. Without looking at the screen I knew who that was. Albeit his message was short, I heard the sadness in it. Something happened and it wasn't good. But I won't push. The important thing is… _he's coming home_.

Flack was silently driving to our crime scene. "Who was it?" he asked. It had a different ringing tone than my usual. I assigned another sound for Mac's calls so I would know it's him and I never dared to turn down his calls. His were _always_ important… _always_ worth my time. "Okay, go ahead, Stella and all your secrets," he chuckled when I didn't answer. "You're still buying the burgers."

"Is that all you think about, Flack? Food?" I joked back, punching him lightly on the arm. I tinkered more with my phone until I reached the message function. I wanted Mac to know that I'm here.

"Nah…" he said more with his hand than his voice, "you know me better than that." We reached the scene before he could say anything else. "Damn it, I told the first officer to keep the vultures away…" he said charging out of the car.

I let him take care of that for a while. After all, the scene wouldn't go anywhere. I sat there, my fingers hovering over the keys of my phone, thinking of just the right thing to say. Then it hit me.

_I'll be waiting for you._

All of it went by so fast that the only thing I could remember was seeing 'Message Sent' on the screen of my phone. I must've had a goofy smile on my face because the next thing I knew, Flack was opening the door for me and almost dragging me out.

"What's the matter, Stell?" he chuckled when I found my feet and stood on my own. "Should I call Messer to help? You're a little bit distracted over there."

I felt myself redden. Times like these, I was thankful of my wild curls. I hid behind them as Flack escorted me to the prone and bloody body in the middle of the alley. "So… what do we have here, Detective?"

He laughed out loud. "Evasive, Stella. That should be your middle name."

"Care to baptize me, Donald, Jr. sir?" I said, crouching down and picking up the victim's purse. "After all, you do hold some kind of prestige in this city with that big and shiny commendation medal of yours."

He scribbled something on his notepad. "Hey, you're the boss," he said with his hands up. "For what, three more days? Five if you count the days off the higher ups gave Mac." He lingered around me, taking his notes. "And speaking of Mac, he has the shiny medal, too. Why not let him 'baptize' you?"

I shot him an amused look. One that said both, "Stop that," as well as, "Mac can christen me with more names than _that_." And apparently, Flack got them both. The mischievous glint in his blue eyes said it all.

"It's bound to come out sooner rather than later, Stella, my dear," he chuckled as he walked off to interview witnesses.

You can add 'transparent' to that list of potential middle names. Only when it's about _him_ that I let my guard down. And _with_ him, my walls crumble. I become a totally different person _with_ him and actually… _for him_.

When I'm with Mac, I cease to be 'Stella'. To him, I can be his 'most annoying employee' (but probably second to Danny) or his 'best-est friend'. I once heard him say that I was, "such a kid, Stella. Seriously."

But from all those, one stood out… "You're the strongest person I know." When he said that, hairs on the back of my neck stood up. The way he said it… to me, was near _reverence_. It rendered me speechless for a few moments. When I touched his skin not long after that, it was warm... welcoming. I actually held on longer than deemed appropriate for a handshake.

I sat back on my heels as I bagged the tape lifts and hair samples. I work well even with half my brain running elsewhere. I was only too happy to hear another voice in the background. Apparently, Flack saw it fit to call Danny Messer to help me. Gee, was I spaced out _that much_?

"I'll meet you guys back in the lab," I said, tapping Danny on the shoulder and momentarily interrupting his guy talk with Flack.

"Uh yeah, Stella," he mumbled with a sideways glance. "I'm telling you, Don, they don't stand a chance against the Nicks…" Flack didn't look convinced.

Back at the lab – in Mac's office – I started to clean up. Not that I cluttered the place up too much during my one-week's stay. I knew Mac didn't like leaving Post-It notes all over his blotter, so I took them away first. Next, I removed the Mickey Mouse screensaver from the computer. Mac was smart enough to password-protect everything apart from active case files. And finally, I straightened up the pictures on his bookshelf. I had fun moving them around and trying to remember the story behind each snapshot.

I was proud to say that I was in all nine frames. They were either of him with the team – Lindsey _and _Aiden, or in some official NYPD function where we're all dressed in the blue. I loved seeing him in full uniform. I haven't had the privilege to see him in his USMC gear in person though. But if his pictures were any testament to that…

"Stella," Lindsey's voice interrupted me from my rearranging, "Danny and Flack are back from the scene and the front desk wanted me to give this to you." She handed me a slip of paper with something written on it. She stayed for a while, looking at the pictures. "Hmm…" she mumbled and I looked up from the memo. "In all of these, Stella… Mac's always beside you."

It wasn't what she said that startled me; it was the way she said it. It was a cross between amusement and suspicion. She took one frame – it was taken last Christmas, Lindsey's second with us. "I remember when this was taken. Adam said we should try and squeeze into the frame. I remember thinking I'd sit beside you on the loveseat and all the guys can stand around us. But Mac beat me to it; sat and immediately tapped the spot next to him whilst looking at you," she smiled at the memory. And I went with her on that.

Danny gave us hell afterwards that he tried to lure us under every mistletoe hung inside the lab. He was unsuccessful but did manage to catch me under one. I didn't want to bust his ego by saying that Flack and Sheldon were successful at it – Flack hung one himself over Mac's office door and Sheldon tricked the both of us to get eggnog for everybody from the beverage table. We didn't know at that time that they lined the whole table with that plant.

Both kisses were chaste ones on the cheek. Yet the fact that Mac blushed every time didn't go unnoticed by me.

"A good thing, Peyton wasn't there," Lindsey said with a smirk on her face. I didn't realize that she was looking straight at me, the picture frame back on its perch. She went back to work, exiting the office silently.

As fun as it was to play boss for a week now, he'd got to get his ass back here. Not only that it's stare-worthy – hey, I'm only human and I'm sure several female lab techs and receptionists here were guilty of that as well. But seriously, I might be an effective boss figure but the difference was felt. Mac was the iron hand around here but he's also everybody's friend. You can count on him.

I could see how hard it is not to be attracted to him. Well, for me anyway. It's stupid, really. A lot of my female colleagues and friends are 'jealous' of me because I work so closely with _the_ Mac Taylor. The questions, "How could you concentrate with such a fine male specimen breathing down your neck? Has he made any _moves_ on you? Or have _you_ made any moves on _him_?" became routine for me after some time.

I brushed them off for the longest time. The guy just lost his wife and was trying to be strong. But later on, I started asking myself as well. "I've been taking care of Mac for a while now… was I doing that just because he's a friend? Or is it because of something more? Something _deeper than that_?"

My eyes fell on the picture Lindsey was studying earlier. Even if Mac didn't invite me over to sit beside him, I would've done it anyway. To hell with the rumors and the _bets_ circulating around the lab (thanks, Adam)! He never did question my intentions on 'helping' him or being there for him. And I never asked for anything in return.

I've invested a good part of my life for this man. He started to go out again while I retreated back to the sidelines. I was happy when he found Peyton – he would always tell me that. His eyes would light up every time she enters our conversations. But when I start to say that I was happy for him, he would recoil and smile shyly. Then he would discreetly change the topic.

Mac had avoided talking about Peyton with me recently. I was the first one to find out about the budding relationship that had apparently started at a Forensics convention a few years ago. Although he did tell me about this trip to London with her. In my opinion, he needed the time off – the time alone with her. I've always teased him that he spent more time with me than her… come to think of it, than _anyone else_. Work was his life. I was part of 'work'. Which means…

_I'm also part of his life._

**CSINYCSINYCSINY**

_MJ – lol, not like I'm going to kill of anybody hahaha. I don't deal with "case stories" XD_

_Magic-munchies – the only episode I watched of Midsomer was the one with Orlando Bloom in it haha_

_Mandi – yeah, when I read back, the guy pissed me off, too._

_Moska – hi! Wow, I'm glad to hear that. Means so much. Now, I'm scared that I won't be up to par haha. But I hope you're enjoying this._


	5. Two Weeks

_**A/N: Yay! It's raining.**_

_**Boo! It's exam week. How I wish I got Mac wrapped around my shivering self. Ha! Wish!**_

_**Warm me up with those reviews, willya? Thanks!**_

**CSINYCSINYCSINY**

_**But these places and these faces are getting old**_

_**So I'm going home**_

_**Well I'm going home**_

I took the cab the rest of the way back to Peyton's apartment. I walked a good two or so miles before it started to drizzle. When I got there, I realized that the door wasn't locked and there was light coming from the bottom of the door. I checked my watch and it was 7:30pm New York time, which means it was thirty minutes passed midnight in London. I was out for a long time.

As I suspected, Peyton was there waiting for me. She was dozing off on the couch, her legs curled up under her, dried tears on her cheeks. She looked tired and little. A part of me wanted to shake her awake or somehow carry her to bed where it's more comfortable. The other wanted to leave her alone because I didn't want to have a _conversation_ right now.

But comfort ruled over doubt so I silently walked over to her and gingerly carried her in my arms and placed her to her bed. I pulled off her shoes and socks and placed the blanket around her shoulders. I kissed her on the forehead and turned off the lamplight.

I watched her for some time from the threshold of the bedroom, the room we shared each night for a whole week. She turned to her side, her back to me and hugging the pillow I used. The whole week I spent alone with her in her city was one of the best I've ever had, I must admit. It was the most carefree I have ever felt. No worries about cases, employees, the higher-ups, budget meetings. I had nothing to fret about when it came to the overall well being of the office since I put Stella on charge.

_Stella._ I had to close my eyes after thinking of her name. It comforted me but at the same time, it made me feel guilty. _Very guilty_. There I was… in my girlfriend's bedroom after discovering that she was crying and waiting for me and the mere mention of another woman's name melted all my 'sorry' away.

But it made me feel that everything's going to be alright. There was something in her voice – in her _smile_ – that was so contagious. It made everything seem good. Stella made me not worry about anything but she would also cause me all the worries in the world.

She could make my heart fall – to the pits of despair and to _somewhere else_. That was the _something_ that I've been trying to avoid since I left New York. And now that I was planning to come back… I still haven't dealt with it. Maybe it's about time I come to grips with it.

As I turned to exit fully the room, I heard a sad and sleepy voice say, "Please don't go, Mac. Please…" I turned back and saw Peyton looking at me, fresh tears coming from her eyes and down her cheeks. It crushed me, seeing her like that. I've seen enough crying women in my lifetime – not so much crying because of me. It pained me to realize that I caused Peyton's tears. But at the same time, I felt that she knew what I was thinking as well.

"Just one more night, Mac…" she said loud enough for me to hear. "One more and… and we… we can forget all these ever happened." I heard the sorrow in her words and all of them hit me like bricks. I nearly ran towards her and grabbed her and kissed her for all she was worth.

Quite frankly, I didn't know anymore what I felt. _Confused_ maybe. _Twisted_. One moment, I was musing about Stella. The next, I was undressing Peyton and making love to her. I felt like I was betraying two woman at the same time. Well, in a way… _I was_. My body was doing something different than what my mind was telling it to. My lips were traveling physically on Peyton's neck whilst my brain was crying out to Stella. And apparently, she knew that, too.

"You don't have to say anything, Mac," she pleaded as she sank down on me with a groan from the both of us. "You don't have to think of anyone right now. It's just you and me." She buried her face on my shoulder as we reached our peaks. "I love you," she finally whispered before rolling to her side of the bed.

Nothing was exchanged between us after that until we woke up the next morning. I barely got any sleep. Midway through the night, I transferred myself to the couch outside and tried to be comfortable. I was very confused about my real feelings.

Whom do I love – the woman sleeping in the bedroom 20 feet from where I'm sitting or the woman probably working a crime scene hundreds of miles away?

I love them both – in varying degrees. But… only one… I _ache _for.

Right then and there, 5:30 in the morning on a leather couch in London, I made up my mind. I guess that is what true love is. It's always there – just waiting for you to see it. It'll wait for you until you do.

The sun was already up when Peyton woke up. She was smiling and greeted me nicely as if yesterday didn't happen. But the change was there. She didn't hug me from behind anymore. She did make me coffee but there were no more kisses when she handed me my mug. Not to mention, we didn't share mugs anymore. We sat on opposite ends of the couch while we ate our breakfast, facing each other, talking about which parts of London she'd take me next. We talked, we laughed, we joked… and in her words, as if we forgot all that ever happened.

Partly, I was thankful for it. Saved me the guilt and the pain of a 'formal' break-up, if there is such. I have to stop sounding like a teenager. I'm a grown man, for goodness sakes.

Peyton was successful in persuading me to stay the three remaining days. And she promised that I could go home right after. "You're not coming with me?" I asked, as we were walking the streets of the city after lunch.

"Well, I decided to stay for two weeks more, Mac," she said. "It's been a while since I spent time with my family. Although last night was…" she stopped and blushed, "_far_ from great, they're still my family." She looked up to me. "I'm really sorry for what Nicholas did. I have to say he's one of the reasons why I can't have a long serious relationship." She chuckled.

"Don't worry about it, Peyton," I laughed, too. "He could be scary; I understand."

"That was not even half of it," she said. "I remember back in college, Nicholas scared off a guy I was dating when he started talking to him about, oh I don't know… insects or something. The guy never set foot in my house again after that." We rounded a corner and spotted an empty bench to sit on.

She had her eyes closed, as if listening to the activity of the city. "I was afraid that he'd render me alone," she simply said. I looked at her, searching for spite in her words but I found none. Her hands started to tremble.

"Peyton," I started, shaking her out of her reverie, willing her to meet my eyes, "you won't be alone. Trust me on that." She managed a small but reassuring smile to say that she believed it. "Hey, I'm sorry it didn't work out between us."

She was shaking her head. "I was expecting to much," she said, smiling sadly. "I really learned a lot, Mac, from you. About me and about living." She stood up and pulled me to join her. "Come on, didn't we agree to forget all those already?" Just like that, she was perky again after being at the verge of crying a second ago.

When we got back to her place, she dropped a big one on me. "Have you checked your phone, Mac?" she asked innocently as she unloaded the groceries we picked up. "You dropped it on the floor along with your pants… uh, last night." I felt the heavy weight of my phone in my pocket. "I accidentally pressed a button and opened a message you received," she sat on the coffee table in front of me and batted her eyelashes. "It seemed important. It's from Stella."

My eyebrows shot up. But she was gone to tend to her own phone call before I could react. Recovering from the initial shock, I quickly fished out my phone and scrolled over to messages. I could remember that last night I called her, saying something and hanging up before cowardice came over me.

Peyton was right. It was from Stella. In my opinion, it was _always_ important. And it said:

_I'll be waiting for you_.

I could almost hear her say those words to me as if she was right there beside me. If I had seen this last night, I would've taken the first flight back to New York. She knew she could always call me but I guess she heard the desperation in my voice last night – whatever I said to her – and decided not to push.

Just goes to show, she knew me like nobody else did.

**CSINYCSINYCSINY**

_Mandi – oh yeah. How insensitive are they?_

_Mo – consider this one a belated birthday gift! _


	6. High School

_**A/N: A long one here. The next part will take some time. My muses aren't cooperating and I don't have a lot of writing time in my hands.**_

_**But please bear with me. I promise that this will be good.**_

_**Thanks!**_

_**The miles are getting longer, it seems**_

_**The closer I get to you**_

"Hello?" I sleepily said over the phone. I swear to God, who ever is on the other line wanted to end his or her life – calling me up at 5 in the morning is a near death sentence from yours truly. "And this better be _damn good_."

There was a chuckle. "Why Bonasera, is that how you treat a friend who will be coming back home with the limited edition Harry Potter scarves you requested?" the man on the other end said.

I smiled and sat up on my bed. "But _Mac_," I whined in my best little girl voice, "It's 5 a.m. here, in case you don't know. And I just pulled an all-nighter yesterday."

"Oh poor little Stella," he said in mock concern. "I'll make it up to you. First three dumpster dives after I come back have my name on them."

"_Well_," there was that little girl voice again, "you mentioned Harry Potter scarves. Gimme and you're forgiven."

"So until then, I'm in debt," he said. I could hear him at the airport – the noise of the speakers and people were unmistakable.

It was my turn to laugh. Leave it to Mac Taylor to chase my crankiness away at five in the morning. "Damn straight, Taylor. And I trust you got the right ones?"

"Red for Gryffindor, yellow for Hufflepuff, blue for Ravenclaw, and green for Slytherin," he recited. I heard a rustle of plastic from his end.

"Very good, Detective," I said. "You deserve a tall glass of milk and a cookie for that."

There was a slight pause and when I was about to take what I said back, he replied in all seriousness, "A sit-down dinner at Little Italy would be better, Stella." _Huh? I'm paying?_ Well, not that I minded. After all, he went out of his way to find those items for me. Probably sneaked off to buy them while Peyton was in the conference. I was thinking too much that I _almost_ missed what he said next, "My treat. For taking care of everything while I was away and… _just thank you_. For everything."

I was speechless for a few moments after that. _What do you say to that?_ Apparently, he knew that question was in my head.

"Please say yes, Stella," he said. There was a hint of desperation in his voice. _So…_ something _was_ wrong. "Pl…" he was about to _beg_ again and I couldn't stand that. Mac Taylor _does not _beg. Especially not to me.

"Do I need to dress-up?" I asked to prevent hearing _that_ tone in his voice again.

"Do you want to dress-up?" he countered. I could feel the apprehension in his voice.

I felt that what he was planning was no _ordinary_ sit-down dinner. "I'm asking you, Mac Taylor," I said, hoping he would take the bait.

"It's not like it's a _date_ or anything, Stella," he said in one breath. _Bait not taken_. Okay, so it's _not_ a date – he spat the word out like it's foul. "But… I wouldn't mind seeing you in that little black dress of yours again."

Oh I know well what he's talking about. I could almost see a little embarrassed smile decorating his face. "_Done_," I replied and I bet the smile became bigger. "As long as you skip the tie and the top button _should _be _undone_." I knew I was overreaching but hey, could you blame me for trying?

"Uh…" I could tell he was confused, "S-sure. We could agree on a time when I settle back home."

"Okay," I said, trying to stifle a yawn. He chuckled after that.

"I'll leave you to whoever you're dreaming of, Stella," he said.

I almost didn't catch what he said. "Bobby Goren," I mumbled before I knew it.

"Bobby who?" he asked and that woke me up instantly.

"Law and Order, Mac. 'Criminal Intent'," I laughed out loud at my slip. "You know I like intellectual guys over the overly pretty boys."

He groaned. When I asked him why, he replied, "No mentions of 'Law and Order' please."

"But we used to watch that. Reruns and all…" I started to protest but he cut me off.

"For now. Please." There was that sad tone again. Now, I'm itching to ask him…

"What happened, Mac?" I asked before I could stop myself.

The silence from the other end of the line troubled me. Mac's a very private person but even to him, _this silence_ was unbecoming. "You know what, we can skip the dinner and we can just order in. _My treat_."

"No, no," he replied hastily. "You deserve the dinner, Stell. We can talk then. Just… _not now_." He was clearly trying to get away. And for this time, I let him. "And I would appreciate it if… if…"

"You won't hear anything from me," I said reassuringly. In his own time. And I also decided to lighten up the mood. "And nobody would know that you find Angie Harmon hot and Kathryn Erbe cute."

There was that happy chuckle again. Hey, he did find those 'Law and Order' actresses cute. And he knew that I found Christopher Meloni sexy.

"You have to stop watching all those police shows," he said, recovering from his laughing fit. "As if you don't get enough at work."

"Hey, I watch other shows, too," I defended, recuperating myself. "You, Mac Taylor, of all people, should know that. After all, half the shows on my TiVo were programmed by you." Just goes to show how much time he spent at my place after the whole Frankie incident. "And besides, you watch them, too."

We laughed again. I wondered if he's like this with other people. "Okay then; truce. Dinner and no 'Law and Order' when I come back. Deal?"

So what's with that show anyway? I decided to let it slide for now. "Fine," I said with a blatant yawn. I was really getting sleepy. "Have to go to sleep now, Mac. Early today… on call. Say hi to Peyton for me." And then _silence_. "Mac?"

"I miss you," he said, barely audible. _Whoa… what was _that_ about_? "I'll see you soon, Stella." He clicked off before I could get my wits back. There was a redundant beeping coming from the phone when I crashed back to reality.

I placed my phone back on my bedside table, closed my gaping mouth and rested against the pillows. Oh-_kay_; how did _that_ come up? What just happened?

The hairs at the back of my neck stood up when Mac said, "I miss you". Not that I didn't miss him, too but seriously – _how do you respond to that_?

All my plans to go back to sleep were dashed. I could not sleep with too much things swimming in my mind. It would be hell later at work but hey, I'm the boss – _temporarily_ – and maybe I can catch some winks.

_Or maybe not_. I remembered… he's coming home today. Great. Something to make me anxious. Something to make my stomach churn like crazy for the whole day. I don't understand… what brought all of these up?

I pulled myself up from my bed and fixed a heavy breakfast. _Great_. Five-thirty in the morning and I was rummaging around my underused kitchen. Mac really owed me truckloads. But after a week or so sitting on his boss chair, I had renewed respect for the man. I coped with Danny and Flack's quirks by joining in or being a big sister to them – riding along when they ruffle Mac's feathers. I never expected that being their 'boss', I had to handle them with a firmer hand. And with Messer and Flack, it was near impossible.

That's what I love about this job. It's like high school – you're dead serious in studying, passing exams and whatnot; in our case, studying the evidence and solving cases – but then again, you have these characters you have to deal with. Don's the popular guy; the guy everybody wants to be seen with. Sheldon would be the walking encyclopedia and Lindsey could be the shy new kid; the freshman. And then Danny would be the all-around cool guy that every guy wants to be, and every girl wants to be with. Little ole me would probably be the overachiever, captain of the cheerleading squad; everybody's big sister.

But how about Mac? Hmm… he would be the hot but quiet upper classman who's involved in a lot of extra-curricular activities and would make any girl want to hang out by the library just to share breathing room with him.

Don't ask; I had a crush on a guy like that back in high school. I would frequent the library, the tutoring classrooms and the track oval at any given day after school. I was hoping he'd notice me – he did, eventually, when he asked if he could borrow my Chemistry textbook. _And_ he became interested when he found out that I was fluent in Greek. But we didn't really hit it off. He was more interested in the tall blondes and English brunettes.

_Whoa!_ Now, why did I think of _that_ specifically? As far as I could remember, I never went to school with anyone with an English accent. Well, I work with one. _Oh Stella… stop it, stop it, stopitstopitstopit!_ I took a breath to clear my mind. I was driving myself up the wall for no reason.

I placed all the dishes in the dishwasher and sat back down, a cup of coffee in front of me. Six-fifteen. Too early to do _anything_. I pushed my cup to the side and placed my head on the smooth wood of my dining room table.

Hell, I didn't even _like_ high school. Now why the _heck_ was I associating my work place – my _beloved_ work place – to _that_ embodiment of hell? Flack and Danny in those 'members only' jackets with groups of girls ogling their every move, wide-eyed Lindsey with her bag full of books being one of those girls, Sheldon with his hand up in the air and ready to answer the teacher's question before he could ask it. And _Mac_. Damn, why was I having these coming-of-age cliché scenes?

I started to massage my temples. This was getting too much. But I couldn't stop now; or I'd go insane. So here goes:

Library. Stella… that would be me, the overachiever and captain of the cheerleading squad would be pretending to find a book by the Physics section. But really, I was trying to catch the eye of the person at the other side of the shelf, looking for his own book. Mac – the hot upper classman. In between the books and journals, I could see him clearly – eyebrows knit closely in concentration with two books already on the crook of his arm. His green eyes would be scanning books on string theories. I wonder what's his favorite.

A grin broke out on his face. He must've found the book. Ah, Veneziano's String Theory of Quantum Physics. _Everything is connected_. I loved seeing him smile. Doesn't happen too often, though.

And then he lifted his eyes to meet my own green ones. I was frozen on the spot, cheeks heating up. "Can I help you?" he simply asked as if I didn't look like a doe caught in the headlights.

It took me a few seconds to put myself back together and say, "Uhm… well, I see you've found your book." Oh so smart you are, Stella. He just smiled and I melted again. "Uh… chaos… theory?" _Duh_, more like Murphy's Law. _Anything that can go wrong _will_ go wrong._

There was that smile again. "Branch of mathematics that deals with complex systems whose behavior is highly sensitive to slight changes in conditions, so that small alterations can give rise to strikingly great consequences," he explained. "The Mathematics section has information on that; mainly about the butterfly effect. But if you want, I can help you look for the references."

I had to bite my lower lip to keep myself from smiling. "That… that would be nice," I pathetically squeaked out. "Thank you."

Yet, before he could start looking… "Oh there you are, Mac," his smart, talented and _English_ girlfriend Peyton comes by. "Classes are already over and you're still here?" He gave me an apologetic smile and turned to her.

"I was just helping a friend out," he said somberly. "And I was just about to check out these books for my term paper."

"All work and no play makes my Mac a dull boy," Peyton chuckled and started to tug him away from the shelves.

But before he let himself be dragged off, he turned back to me and handed one of the books in his arm to me. "Here. Chapter six and eighteen. Butterfly effect is on chapter twenty-nine to thirty-seven." And then he was gone.

I clutched the book in my hands, closing my eyes. I was _so close_ to having a conversation with him, no matter how academic or how nerdy it would've sounded. The book felt heavy and it was a bit cold in the room. Suddenly, there was a loud and irritating beeping sound coming from nowhere. Hey, this is a library – turn your phones to silent. I looked around and realized that I nobody else was reacting to the sound.

_Beep-beep. Beep-beep._ My eyes snap open. I was back in my dining room, coffee all cold and bland. My head was pounding and somehow, a small pool of drool was on my table. Oh, I must've dozed off; then it was a dream. And the beeping sound?

"Bonasera?" I hurriedly answered my mobile phone.

"Somebody chasin' you, Stella?" Flack's ever-cheery voice said.

"I hate you for being so happy and awake so early in the morning," I said, dumping the remaining sludge down the drain and washing the cup.

"Uh… it's almost ten a.m. and we have a scene," he said with a confused tone in his voice. _Ten o'clock_ already? Boy, no wonder my neck and back are killing me. "Are you okay, Stell? I could get Hawkes to do this."

The dream I had was so vivid; it was so real. It felt like it was just a couple of minutes but I had been asleep for hours. "Uh, no. I'll be there thirty tops. Lost track of time."

Flack chuckled. "Anything for the boss," he said. "The body's not going anywhere. We have trainees here."

"Okay, meet you back at the lab then," I said, heading back into my bedroom.

We clicked off after that. In the shower, I cleared my head for another day at work.

_Sorry if it looked like some pages off a teen literature piece or whatever. My muses aren't happy. But I hope they're okay. _


	7. Little Girl

_**A/N: Soooooo sorry for the loooooong wait. My muses went on a vacation, leaving me alone with no inspiration.**_

_**Anyway, I hope this chapter makes up for it. Thanks!**_

_** hr **_

_**I've not always been the best man or friend for you**_

_**But your love, it makes true**_

"Have to go to sleep now, Mac. Early today… on call," said Stella over the phone. I heard her yawn a few seconds ago. "Say hi to Peyton for me, okay?" I almost regretted calling her this early when I could easily call her when I land in JFK. "Mac?"

Hearing her voice never failed to make me smile. She has this certain edge to her that is always there – sleepy or wide-awake. And her joy is contagious.

I made a promise to myself: to not hide what I feel anymore. I've suppressed it long enough. But it's baby steps along the way. I was afraid that I'd scare her away if I were too forward with it.

"I miss you," I whispered. _Oh please, Stella, don't freak out._ Silence. _Please say something._ It was clear to me after that that she was shocked. Hell, _I_ was shocked. It was pretty bold for me to say that with the emotion I put in it. It was so easy; and it felt good – saying what I felt. "I'll see you soon, Stella," I said quickly before disconnecting, not waiting for her reply.

What would she say? What would she think? _What was I thinking_? I stuffed my phone into my coat pocket and just blanked out. I hope she wouldn't take that in a bad way. I _really_ missed her.

Sure, I missed everybody in New York – I missed working. Sometimes, I wear those 'boss pants' a little too diligently. I wanted things to be done right, by the book and airtight. I've let go employees when those rules were broken; it wasn't easy. But somebody's got to do it. One or two of them would go against my decisions and they did have an earful from me. I wanted things around the lab to be done perfectly. Anything below that was unacceptable.

A little hypocritical really, especially because I, myself, am not perfect. I've made mistakes that hurt myself and hurt others. It cost me friendships and even relationships. But when I lost all of those, _she remained_. It didn't matter to her what I did and why.

_She just stayed_. I guess she felt that I needed her no matter what even before I realized it. In return, I tried my very best to be there for her all the time. Lately, I have been doing a half-assed job about it and she _knows_ it – yet, she's not complaining. She just gave me my space and backed-off.

I would go to her first whenever I have something to heave off my chest. _To her first_. Not to Hawkes, not to Danny… especially not to _Peyton_. I tried once to confide to her but she didn't understand _any_ of my horrors. She didn't see what I saw, didn't connect with what I felt. _But Stella did_. She always did.

All those late night phone calls we would have were filled with mostly my words of sympathy to the families of the victims and/or rage towards the perpetrator of the crime. I wouldn't let it show while I was at work but those phone calls with Stella were very telling that I was still human. During these, she would stay silent and just _listen_. Sometimes, I would ask if she's still awake or if she wants to hang up on me and sleep. She would say, "Yes, I'm here," or "No, just go on". And I would rant on.

Her steady breathing would lull me to sleep at times. Her chuckles would jolt me awake. Sometimes, it was her turn to rant – and boy, could she talk. I must admit, they were more entertaining than irritating. Stella wasn't scared of saying her mind.

Although she does have trouble hearing what people say about her. I figured growing up in an orphanage would've toughened her up. But, not totally. There were moments – _split second moments_ – where the scared and lost little girl in Stella comes through. Deep inside, she just wants to be wanted. To be needed. _To be loved._

There were fleeting moments when I just want to hug that little girl. She would be looking around the big world – _looking at me –_ with those wide green eyes of hers, unsure of herself and what she's worth. Stella would never admit to this but there is a part of her that seeks affirmation from people around her. Sometimes, that need becomes too great… that a hug was all I could muster. All I could _give_. All she _needed._

The time I spent with Peyton was short but it was rather meaningful. Things have not worked well between us but we learned a lot from each other. I won't be the man I am today without her. For one, she made me realize how much I love Stella. Made me realize that I wasn't fooling anybody. If not for her, I would be coming back home to New York, still the same fool who took a break ten days ago. The only person I was trying to deceive… was myself.

I could imagine how painful it was for her. I felt that she loved me very much. I thought I love her – _I do_ but… I don't know. It's different. _Than how I love Stella_.

Even in London, Peyton never missed an episode of Oprah. Including the reruns with Dr. Phil. And in one of those reruns, the topic was marriages – or _relationships _in general – gone sour. Dr. Phil then asked a crying young woman in his heavy Southern accent: _Do you see yourself with this person for the rest of your existence? _The woman stared at him a moment and said in a shaky voice laced with tears, "No."

The good doctor said she loved her boyfriend for all the wrong reasons. Because he had money, being able to give her a secure future; because he's easy on the eyes; because he's good in bed; because her parents liked him. She broke down after that with Oprah comforting her before they went into break.

Peyton uncurled herself from my side as a box of cereal danced across the screen. She looked me in the eye and asked me, "Mac, do you see yourself with me for the rest of your life?" It was sudden but it wasn't what she said that surprised me. It was the sincerity in her eyes that did me in. She wasn't smiling as she always did to get into my good graces. Instead, she was chewing her lower lip raw.

What was I supposed to say? What is the 'rest of my life' like anyway? I knew in this line of work, I would lose people to the job as well as meet new ones by it. Yet Peyton was beyond that. She was part of my personal life. I reckoned that meant something more. But in that short pause immediately following her question, I had an epiphany.

_Yes_. I saw her in my life years from now.

But the picture in my head – _I wasn't with her_.

I was about to start to wiggle my way out of the situation when her phone rang. "Excuse me," she sweetly said, leaving me there with Oprah and Dr. Phil.

She never followed up her question. Quite frankly, I think my answer was obvious. I have not asked her back because I knew that she did – she did see me with her in her life. Peyton worked hard to make our relationship work. While I worked hard to hide it.

I haven't told anyone back home that Peyton wasn't coming with me. That it's over between us. Partly because I don't know how and what to tell them. Not that they cared much. But one of them would care like it's her problem, too.

I wonder what Stella really thought of Peyton and my relationship with her. I wasn't upfront to her about it. In fact, I hid it even from her. When I finally told her – with all the information coming from me – she just smiled and gave me a hug and said, "_Finally_. I'm happy for you." Her smile did me in. She was sincere. It was true.

Quite frankly, I was surprised that she acted that way. I expected that she'll withdraw for a second and recover, stuttering her congratulations. I never thought her hug would be that warm and tight. She took me to dinner the night I told her. We talked about Peyton and she listened very intently; the twinkle in her eyes was like that of an excited child.

I couldn't understand why I was feeling that way. I was almost _disappointed_. And I couldn't explain why I was feeling that way. I expected her to be all possessive of me, asking what kind of person Peyton is or maybe _if_ she's really serious and would take care of me.

Stella did such a great job taking care of me that I doubt that there'll be anyone out there who's better at it. I don't know if anybody could compare to what she'd done to me and for me. What she is _still doing_ for me. She sat there in front of me over coffee – so happy as if she achieved her goal.

Maybe she had. Stella told me once that she doesn't want me to be alone, "Or you might do something to yourself. And I can't have that in my conscience," she joked. It was as if she made it her personal goal to play matchmaker for me. As if her company was somewhat _temporary_. Little did she know, she didn't have to after all. That her company was all I needed.

I _know_ that _now_. If I had known that then, maybe – _just maybe_ – she'd be in my arms right at this very moment, enjoying the last minutes of a well-earned vacation. But I don't regret this late realization of mine. In fact, it scares me. When I step off the plane once back in New York… what'll happen when I see her there, waiting for me? What should I do? Would I be able to stop myself from giving her a more than friendly hug and kiss?

In my confused brain, even _waiting for me_ had a new meaning.

hr 

_Mandi – haha, I'm a die-hard Hermione/Ron shipper haha. So I'm happy with how it ended. But I can do a better epilogue than that! XD_

_MJ – actually, I'm the one crushing on Bobby Goren ahha…_

_I didn't realize that the way I wrote the previous chapter showed how Stella's not used to "more than friendship" affection from Mac. Liked it?_


	8. Airport

_**A/N: Soooooo sorry for the loooooong wait – again. My computer got reformatted and I had to reload EVERYTHING.**_

_**But for all it's worth. This chapter practically wrote itself. It's six pages of my original idea that spawned this whole fic. The "airport scene". It all started out at the SMACked thread at TalkCSI.**_

_**I'm not sure when this'll end or how I'm going to attack this. But I'll make sure it'll be good stuff. If not, please tell me, okay?**_

_**Thank you! And enjoy!**_

_** hr **_

_And I don't know why_

_You always seem to give me another try_

I wished they made airport chairs a little more comfortable. After all, flight delays are so crazy and waiting times can span to a few minutes to unholy hours. Mac said that his flight would come in at 1 p.m. Well, Mister American Airlines… it's 2:45 p.m. and where are you?

I remember a conference I attended with Mac in Chicago. It was, like in all department sponsored events, all-expense paid. We had to dress up and indulge in first-class dinners. The hotel was superb. Everything was great _except_ for the flights. The departure from New York was an hour late. And well… the one from Chicago back to New York was _six_ hours tardy! Some glitch in the systems or something. By then, I was so tired from running around with Mac (he toured me around _his_ city) that all I wanted to do was doze off even in the very uncomfortable coach.

But no! Mac insisted that we kill time by watching a movie in the cinema nearby that was showing reruns. I let him pick the most boring one available. And what do you know, he picked a _chick flick_. Let's just say I cried over a box of buttered popcorn while he dozed off beside me. I was sniffing and crying while he made himself comfortable. So _unromantic_!

Until he shifted towards me and placed his head on my shoulder. He would kill me if I told anybody (not that he'd admit to it) but he snuggled the crook of my neck like a little baby. I don't know what it is in chick flicks that induce men to deep sleep. I haven't dated a man who sat through '10 Things I Hate About You'.

_Dated_. Heh, who was I fooling? We weren't on a date; we were just killing time. As the credits rolled, I woke Mac up. I shook him, and he mumbled, "Five more minutes." I chuckled softly. I wonder if he's like this normally. The alarm rings and then he'd hit the snooze button to buy five more minutes before getting up. Then he'd roll over and sink deeper into the bed. Very un-Mac Taylor-like.

On the plane, he was asleep again for the whole way back home. We had separate rooms at the hotel and how was I supposed to know that he wasn't sleeping well. And it's not like I was doing a great job on that myself. Heck, both of us could've used the bedfellows.

_Oh_-kay. That didn't sound right. All I was trying to say – _and think_ – was I have trouble sleeping alone (since my attack). Maybe he has the same problem too. I mean I cope with mine by reading Cosmopolitan out loud until I fall asleep. I doubt he reads Cosmo but I surely can use a better way to use up my saliva. I could've been exchanging intellectual – and probably also mundane – conversations with him since we was just in the next room.

I had to shake my head violently to rid my brain of images of Mac in bed. Those are very un-_friend­-_ly thoughts. And _dangerous_ territory. I took a break off work to pick up Mac from the airport. Everyone in the lab sent their love. Danny almost kissed my feet when I put him in change whilst I was gone. I just hope all is still well and functioning when Mac and I come back or else Mac'll have my hide.

My purse was on my lap. It's not everyday I bring a purse but I just felt like it today. Mac would tease me sometimes about that. "Stella, you are the most low maintenance woman I've ever seen. Vaseline, your phone, your wallet and your badge and gun. All set!" He gave me a beaded purse on my birthday three years ago to prove his point. He never complained that I didn't seem to use that purse he gave me. Now, those same items he mentioned are safely in that purse.

It's fun to watch the people coming and going at the airport. Little kids rushing to daddy as he arrives from a business trip from Australia and wives crying on their husbands' shoulders as they fly off somewhere. Newlyweds off on their honeymoon in Fiji. Snooty corporate people bitching because their flights are delayed. People sending off their care packages to their relatives overseas.

And there's me. Little ole Stella waiting for her best friend to arrive. I would've used '_and boss_' but I don't think that's proper. A female employer waiting and fidgeting for her male boss to arrive.

"Mr. Carlson is never late," a woman who sat beside me, said. Oh I guess I spoke too soon. "Could you believe these airlines? Always late… as if time isn't of the essence." _Well hello to you, too._

The disheveled woman turned to me and pulled out her Blackberry. "That plane should've landed two hours ago from London," she complained, looking at me. "Ugh… $45 per hour down the drain!" Her nametag said that her name was Barbara Porter, Administrative Assistant to Little West Pharmaceutical. "How about you? What's your bitching?"

_Me?_ Bitching? Aw… Barbie, I've bitched enough. Right now, I'm just giddy. "I think we're waiting for the same flight here, Ms. Porter."

"Oh please, it's Barbie," she laughed, her eyes not leaving the small gadget in her hand. "Last time I was called _that_ was at divorce court." She managed an emotionless chuckle.

"Barbie. Right," I corrected myself. "And I would be Stella." We shook hands and she gave me a business card of LWP. "You're waiting for 'Mr. Ferdinand Carlson, Ph.D.'? Sounds like a very busy person."

She finally looked at me and genuinely smiled. "_Very_. He's spearheading the research for new longevity drugs for HIV/AIDS. He's working with teams in London as well as in other parts of Europe. He met with a couple of doctors in the conference about a week ago."

"That's great work," I said. Issues of HIV/AIDS became close to my heart ever since my scare not too long ago. "Your conference might not involve Dr. Peyton Driscoll wouldn't it?"

Barbie clicked and clicked and replied, "Oh yes. Two-thirty to five p.m. on the second day of the conference. You know her? She's a medical examiner, am I right?" I nodded on both. "Oh so you're waiting for her here?" Uh… not exactly.

"Well…" how do I put it? "She's… she's traveling with…"

But before I could continue, the overhead speakers announced the arrival of flights. "Oh god finally!" Barbie exclaimed when we heard that one of the flights were actually the one we're waiting for. There was a flood of people not long after the gates opened.

Knowing the ever gentleman Mac Taylor, he'd alight last – helping the people in front of him get their things from the overhead, helping the pregnant lady with her bags and protecting the elders from the throng. I decided that I would stay where I was and just spot him in the crowd.

Miss Porter didn't move from her place. "They're not paying me to reel in his stuff. I was just supposed to meet him here and bring him up to speed with all the US transactions," she explained, eyes back on the Blackberry. "You can go meet up your guy if you want. Don't let me hold you back," she simply said.

"And what made you think I'm waiting for a _guy_?" I asked a little defensively.

She glared at me with a little smirk. "It's Stella, isn't it?" I nodded and allowed her to continue. "Now Stella… unless you're paid to wait up like me, we," pertaining to the two of us women, "_do not_ dress-up real nicely, all dolled up – to meet our girl friends." That didn't make much sense, at least to me but I nodded. "Besides, your blush gave you away."

My hands flew to my cheeks before I even thought about it. Barbie was smiling as if she won something. "Am I that easy to read?" I asked myself for the nth time in ten days.

But before I could find an answer to that, I noticed a familiar face in the crowd.

A reunited family was hugging each other near the baggage area. The little girl was sobbing against her daddy's chest. An attractive young woman was standing beside an equally attractive man waiting for their bags. Emotional reunions and dull routines right and left. A constant throng of people seemed to come in and head out of the area.

Amid that crowded place, _our eyes met_. Hazel upon green, I smiled. Green upon hazel, he smiled back.

I stood up and held my purse in my hand, foolishly hoping that he'd notice that I was using the beaded bag he'd given me years ago. I walked as confidently as I can towards him, matching his own measured steps. We met halfway and just stared at each other for a moment. Before long, I felt strong arms around me – not crushing, but comforting. My limp arms encircled his waist as my head rested under his chin.

"Stella…" Mac said against my hair. If I wasn't so in the moment, I could've sworn he _moaned_ that out. Not that I _know_ how his moans sound like. He was warm. He smelled good. And he started stroking my back gently. It was almost enough to make me want to moan.

When we pulled apart, he planted a kiss on my forehead. _Wh-whoa! _ I must've done something good today to deserve that. He held my surprised gaze steadfastly and smiled.

"And I miss you, too, Mac Taylor," I said softly, his hands were now on my forearms. "Welcome back home."

He picked up his bags – refusing my help of course, and said, "Good to be back. Wait… if you're here, then…" he raised his eyebrows.

I was at the verge of laughing then. "Relax! Danny promised that he won't blow up the lab or turn the break room into a pool hall," I said, placing the strap of my bag on my shoulder. "And I prohibited him from sitting on your office chair. Or else, Flack would cuff him."

We started to walk towards the parking lot, laughing as we talked about 'the kids' (as we liked to call them). But before we went too far, I walked back to Barbie and handed her my business card. Her smile and the shine in her eyes were all knowing. "_He_ is _no way_ your _boss_," she whispered when she saw my card. "Dr. Carlson would have me arrested if I did to him what you just did to…" she pointed to Mac with her very red lips. He was standing there with a very relieved and _sated_ look in his eyes.

I leaned closer and said, "Don't worry. If the good doctor pulls a stunt like that, whatever charge won't stick." I winked at her before continuing, "Not in the state of New York." We laughed.

Barbie stood up and shook my hand. "I could see the Carlson posse already," she said, pocketing her little gadget. "It was nice meeting you Detective. And like I said before, don't let me keep you from your… well… _boss_."

"Oh you're not," I said before waving goodbye and walking away.

When I was back beside Mac, he asked, "What was that about?"

"Just made a new friend," I said with a grin. We reached my car and he piled his stuff at the back. There wasn't a lot but there was an extra bag with him – probably full of stuff for us back in the lab. He did promise to bring something back other than himself. But if you ask me, Mac coming home safely is all I needed.

I was about to drive off when something crossed my mind. "Where's Peyton?" I asked, almost flooring the brakes. I looked at him and he was looking down at his shoes. His right hand rubbed across his face and then heaved a sigh. "Talk to me, Taylor," I insisted, grabbing his left arm and shaking it.

Never did I expect his next move. His right hand fell on mine and squeezed. I was never shy about touching my co-workers – especially if they're my friends outside the lab as well. And Mac is _way_ beyond that. But _now_… what he'd done; I could feel it when it's more than a touch between friends. _He needed comfort_.

His hand was cold and clammy. And he was stone-faced, not looking anywhere but straight ahead. I knew right there that something was not right. I placed my other hand against his cheek to get his attention. I felt him lean in to the touch. _That comforted me_.

"Mac," I whispered. He closed his eyes in acknowledgement. "We'll talk later, okay?" He sighed again and nodded. I got both my hands back and we headed straight to his house.

Not many words were exchanged throughout the ride. Something was eating at him and I knew better than to prod. I would… but not just yet. Most of the talking was about work actually. It calmed us both, talking about our common ground. He laughed every time I said something funny and he complimented me for a, "Job well done. I knew I could count on you," he said with a soft smile. "_Always._"

We arrived at his house about two hours later. I put the car into park and waited for him to say something. I guessed he needed his space and maybe, he didn't need company right now. Even if it's me. But I guessed wrong.

"Come in with me, Stella," he said, his hand searching mine again. We both were looking straight ahead but my heart began pounding in my chest. The car's interior felt ten degrees warmer. I willed myself not to pant at the sensations. _Oh God, what's happening?_

"Need someone to help you unpack?" I tried to josh. He hadn't let go of my hand atop the center console and began to run his thumb over my knuckles. "Or maybe someone to do your laundry?" I chuckled dryly.

"I want…" he started and then paused. He took a deep breath maybe to calm his nerves and continued, "I need someone to talk to." I would've said yes with just that but he made it worse by adding, "_Please_."

I still hadn't looked at him but I could feel his eyes on me. And I knew they were pleading. He squeezed my hand one more time before I breathed, "Yes." He let go slowly to let me drive into a parking space. I bemoaned the loss of contact but I knew I that what I was about to do could mean the world to him.

This time, he let me help carry his stuff. I tried reaching for the big blue plastic bag but he snatched it from me. "Nope, Stella. Hands off." I crooked my eyebrow at him. I carried his garment bag instead. We went into his house – a place where I have been to many times before, still unchanged since Claire passed away – but I felt that _this time_, something was different.

He led me into his bedroom, a place where I seen only one or twice and only upon invitation. Claire would drag me in their bedroom to help her choose a dress to wear for a night out with her husband. Mac let me crash here the night of my attack until I booked myself a hotel room. And he also begged me to come with him in here to sort out Claire's things. Now, we placed the bags at the foot of the bed, the blue bag on the bed itself. We sat on opposite sides of the bed.

"First things first!" Mac exclaimed, no trace of that upset man from the car. He pulled out another bag (red this time) and dumped its contents on my lap. "The Harry Potter scarves you requested. Quite frankly, I have no idea what you will do with four scarves plus the ones you already have," he joked as I took each one out of their individual packages and _smelled_ them. "But to be honest, the green suits you best."

I instantly blushed, holding the Gryffindor scarf near my face. I bit my lower lip to keep myself from smiling. But it was no use. He saw me smile an embarrassed smile and returned it. As if he said something wrong. I lowered the scarf to the bed when he stopped me.

"Hey now, the _red_ suits you," he chuckled. He took one end and moved to wrap the scarf around me. He scooted nearer, invading my personal space. I didn't care anymore. He was very close and I liked it. "There, all done," he sighed close to my ear, ruffling my hair.

Our breathing was in synch with one another as the seconds flew by. He slowly straightened up and gave me a smile. "Thanks," I said, touching the fabric of the scarf. He did nothing but hold my gaze.

I couldn't look away even if I wanted to. The situation was way beyond awkward – bordering on weird. His silence was different than before. The intensity in his eyes was strong yet it scared me. What was in there? His eyes were saying something. And for the first time, I couldn't read it.

In the end, he was him who looked away as if embarrassed. He picked up the tissue paper from the boxes of scarves and stuffed them into the bag to throw later. "Can I get you something to drink?" he segued.

There was only one answer, "_Beer_." I _needed_ it. He nodded and headed out to his kitchen. I cleaned up the bed of the wrapping paper and plastic. I also refolded the scarves and placed them back in one of the bigger bags. I sneaked a peek at the other smaller bags and it confirmed what I earlier thought. He brought a little something for everyone.

Oh that's so sweet of Mac Taylor. Even if they're all _books_. I took each one out, deciphering which is for whom based on the topics. But hey, people are surprising sometimes. I stuffed them back into the bag and waited for my beer and Mac.

hr 

_ShuShu Fontana – thanks!_

_Mandi – haha, but above everything else, I LOVE Oliver Wood! Hahaha…_

_Moska – the search took longer than it should. Sorry haha! But anyway, idk… I find Bobby Goren's bulk hot. But yeah, Christopher Meloni is a sizzling piece of ass. Got "OZ" dvds to prove it haha!_

_Vipercharmed – oh yeah… that Alex Eames is lucky!_

_Serien – hey! Mac's back. XD_

_Magic-munchies – If this story don't go well, I will be execute ahahaha_

_Mo – well, here we are!_


	9. Touch

_**A/N: I'm having a fluff overload. See for yourselves in this chapter.**_

_**I hope you like it.**_

_** hr **_

_So I'm going home,_

_Back to the place where I belong,_

_And where your love has always been enough for me._

I knew she'd pick beer. She would always pick beer every time she's stressed out about something. Clearly, I was one of those stresses. _Damn it, Taylor_ – don't you screw up the one thing you plan to do right for the rest of your _existence_.

I was too forward. I made her uncomfortable. What was I thinking, inviting her to come up and help me 'carry my stuff and unpack'? Heck, I told her I wanted to talk but how in the hell could I open _it_ up to her? Instead of preparing her and myself for 'the talk', I made us both very uneasy. For sure, she would notice that something was up.

First, it was the absence of Peyton in my arrival. For a while there, I thought Stella forgot all about her. She was about to drive off when she asked about Peyton. It was too soon for me to talk about it and too painful. And I think Stella understood that. I was sure that I wouldn't be hearing anything about that until I bring it up again myself. And now, I wasn't sure if that's still the case.

Second, it was my silence. Normally, Stella would be on the receiving end of my stories about my trips and experiences. But this time, the air inside the car on the way to my place was stuffy and tensioned. I knew that she was just stopping herself from a game of 20 Questions. A 'game' that would be dangerously close to an _interrogation_.

I've never really confided to Stella much when it comes to relationship problems because I know very well that she has her own share. And may I say that hers were far worse than mine. Not to mention, _my _relationship _problems_ involved _her_ in many ways than one. The more I think about it, the deeper it becomes.

Lastly, _I touched her_. Even at work, she's the one doing all the touching. I tend to keep my hands to myself – literally and figuratively. Although Stella's touches were meant to be friendly, sometimes I stop and ask myself why was there a warm feeling inside of my chest every time she comes in contact with me. I mean, I don't see her hug or kiss our other co-workers (except for Flack that _one _time).

I tried not to read too much into it. But sometimes, I couldn't help it. Her hugs felt very good every single time. Her hand leaves warmth on my cheek. Heck, her smile makes me smile.

There was one other time that I hugged her. It was when she suspected that she might have HIV. It was the little girl Stella talking to me; it was the little girl who needed the hug. Yet when my arms closed around her, it was her. _Stella Bonasera_. She snuggled closer to me and I tightened the embrace and began to rock her gently. _I was scared for her. _And I also didn't want her to think she was alone. So I _told_ her that I was there for her. I knew she needed to hear it.

Before this day, there was one more time I braved a hug. It was when the lab was taken over. She came back for me when everybody was told to vacate the building. She was trapped in there with me. After the whole ordeal, I grabbed her – stopping myself from squeezing the air out of her just in time. _I was scared of losing her_. Her wet skin and clothes were cold but the hug was warm. Her breath against my ear was warm.

And speaking of warmth, "I expected my beer cold, Mac," a whisper sounded from behind my ear. Only then did I realize that I was daydreaming in my kitchen, holding two opened bottles of beer. I managed to collect myself, smiled at Stella and handed her one of the bottles. But she didn't take a sip right away.

Instead, she said, "I though you needed someone to talk to." She boosted herself up to sit on the counter and placed the bottle safely away from the edge. "Well, here I am and maybe only one of us needs to get loosened up."

As if on cue, I gulped about half the bottle I was holding. Sure, she's _always_ right. I was the one who needed to relax. And she was the one who needed to keep a straight head on. The counter was big and sturdy enough to support both our weights so I sat flush beside her. I heard her breath hitch.

"Stella… I," _don't know how to say this right,_ "Peyton and I broke up." _There_. I said it. The weight of that on my chest was replaced by anticipation for her response. _Please say something, Stella_.

The kitchen was silent apart from our even breathing (mine slightly faster than hers) and her heels occasionally hitting the cupboard doors underneath the counter. She finally took a swig from the beer bottle. "Oh," she simply said. Disappointment was apparent in her voice. "What happened," she followed, still in that flat and emotionless tone.

_I'm in love with somebody else._ I could say that to her but for sure, it would scare her off whether or not she finds out who that 'somebody else' is.

_Is it too wrong or too hard to fall in love with the person sitting beside you?_ I was neither the poetic one nor the romantic one. But I do have my moments; this probably being one of them. Although, I don't think either of us were ready for that. I – for sure – wasn't.

"Things weren't right between us," I just said. There was some truth in that anyway. It's not that I didn't love Peyton, believe me – I had love for her. I respected her… now more than before. "She expected too much. What I had to offer was too little."

"Don't you _ever_ say that, Mac Taylor!" Stella almost cried out. She couldn't take me pitying myself. And I'm the same to her. She finished her beer and continued, "You have the _whole world_ to give, Mac. You're a good man with a good heart. You _deserve_ to be happy after all the crap you've been through."

Deep inside myself, I believed her. The more I heard that same speech from her, the more I see myself being that person she's describing. Only now it all made sense to me. Yes, I do have the whole world to offer. Yes, I do deserve to be happy. Most of all, I saw her there with me. To offer _her_. To be happy _with her_.

We were silent yet again. The next thing I knew, my hand was back on top of hers, cold from the bottle and moist from the tension. I knew by the way she was looking at me that she got the message. I held her gaze expectantly, almost pleading her to understand. And I was also waiting for her to pull her hand away. I was imagining that the next sound that I would hear was the door slamming shut.

"Mac…" she started, her voice shaky with emotion, "We… we can't…" she stammered but her hand stayed where it was and her eyes never left mine.

I knew there were a lot of things keeping us from pursuing a relationship. But I was already in too deep. We've lost so much time and I wasn't willing to waste any more. I squeezed her hand once more and felt her tense up. But I wasn't 100 convinced that she didn't want this too.

"Why can't we?" I asked her. She was trembling beside me. I was glad that my voice held conviction and whatever courage I had left in me. For once, I was willing to strip my emotions bare.

"Mac…" she sighed, "what about our jobs? We have _so much_ to lose…" she trailed off. Right then, I was _sure_ – that she wanted this also.

"And so much more to _gain_," I countered softly. These were uncharted waters; both of us were careful if we were to go forward. I squeezed her hand again. "Stella, we could have…" I tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

She jerked away violently. But her hand remained under mine. "_NO_! Mac please… don't." I wanted her to look at me straight in the eye to really see how serious I was.

"Stella, I'm willing to…" _what_? I knew I wouldn't up and leave my job this instant. Not _yet_ maybe. But I was willing to, "At least _try_."

That got her thinking. She was silent and still. I had a feeling that she wasn't going to say anything.

"Tell me you want to give it a try also," I whispered loud enough for her to hear. "Or you've already pulled your hand from mine."

She stiffened and slowly closed her eyes. I waited patiently for her to say or do something. And then she did. Stella looked at me with her green eyes and said, "Mac… I…" she sighed and gave my hand a slight squeeze.

I looked at our intertwined fingers, almost missing her widening smile. I squeezed her hand back and slid off the counter to the floor. I stood in front of her and held her gaze. My other hand cupped her cheek. She closed her eyes and sighed to my touch. Her free hand followed mine on her cheek and caressed my fingers. _The moment was perfect_.

"Okay," she whispered against my palm. "_Okay_. I'll try." That was all the answer I needed.

hr 

_Serien – Barbie's based on one of my friends actually haha. Same name even._

_Murgy – I started this one, I think, during the time I finished the 7__th__ book. I guess that's my 'embodiment' in this story._

_Moska – here's number nine. I'll try to clean it up, since I don't have a beta haha. _

_MJ – smex and emotions go well together with these two._

_Lionessmon – lol, that's based on personal experiences with airports_

_Mo -- snuggles_


	10. Dance

_**A/N: Apologies all around the room. Sorry for the insanely long wait. I've been soooo tired these past two weeks.**_

_**September 17 – I turned 19. Yay for my birthday! September 15 and 16 – I was at the beach (Puerto Galera) for a class field trip. And September 22-23 – back to the beach (Anilao this time) for the annual Beach Clean-Up. I did some scuba diving, so that's all good haha.**_

_**I hope you all are still with me. And I'm afraid there is a bit here in this 6-page chapter that is somewhat OOC. But I hope you see that Mac is capable of doing such stuff and I hope you like it.**_

_**Thanks!**_

_** hr **_

_I'm not running from_

_No, I think you got me all wrong_

_I don't regret this life I chose for me_

_What was I getting myself in to?_ The two weeks after Mac arrived from London, I took him up on his offer of dinner. Only, it wasn't anymore about a 'thank you' for a 'job well done'. Heck, I knew it wasn't long since he brought it up over the phone. I couldn't quite put my finger on what that was though.

_That afternoon_ in his apartment was awkward and uplifting at the same time. He pretty much did everything except say that he had feelings for me. His actions spoke for themselves. There was an unfamiliar but not unwelcome warmth in him. He sounded so… I don't know – so _sure_. I must admit it made me uncomfortable. I wasn't used being on the receiving end of his 'romantic' affections.

He didn't kiss me. Just cupped my cheek and caressed. I guess that was a hint that we were going to take it slow. His forwardness shocked me enough; I don't think I can handle more for the time being. After all, he just broke up with Peyton.

At work, it was like nothing happened. Danny gladly gave the office back to Mac. "Now I know what 'pain in the ass' _really_ means," he said dumping a stack of paperwork on the 'out' pile. I transitioned back to my old office that I shared with Lindsey and Danny but I left some pictures in Mac's office. _Per his request._

Like before, we rarely touch at work. Only when _absolutely_ necessary. The difference now, I think, was his knowing smiles. He would say, "Great job, Stella," and his smile would mean something more than a work compliment. His hand would linger on the small of my back as he led me through a door or a hallway. Sometimes, a finger or two would sneak under the hem of my shirt and stroke my hip or back. I swatted him a couple of times when he did that. But it left my body tingling for the rest of the day.

I got my revenge from time to time. My fingers brushed against his when he handed me something or if our hands were on a table, I inched slowly closer so our pinkies would bump. He would smile while I try to keep a straight face. I was never the one to flirt and he wasn't either. We were never on pins and needles when the other was around but we managed to 'flirt' – if you want to call it that.

The most brazen Mac had ever been so far was attaching a big sunflower on the handle of my locker with the note, "You're beautiful," tied on one of the leaves. Lindsey and the man in question happened to walk into the locker room just when I turned beet red. It took me no time to decipher whose handwriting that was.

"A secret admirer, Stella," Lindsey asked trying to look over my shoulder. The sunflower head was almost as big as my face. "Oh my… you can give a rose a run for its money," she said upon seeing my blush.

"It's nothing really," I managed to chuckle embarrassingly. I couldn't talk straight because I was smiling too much. I couldn't believe that _Mac Taylor_ was capable of doing that – leaving a flower and a note on my locker. _How romantic._

"See you in Ballistics, Lindsey," Mac simply said.

Lindsey was still trying to sneak a peek at the small note, which I covered with the big leaf. "Wait, Mac… you're not asking who gave the flower to Stella?" she asked with an eyebrow up. "I mean, aren't you even curious?"

Mac looked at us – at me, with those _knowing_ glares and said, "No. What she does in her own time is hers and none of my business. But… I _am_ happy for you, Stella."

And he walked off, leaving Lindsey to say, "He's definitely curious. He just won't show it." She followed the man out of the room after getting her breath mints from her locker.

A few nights after _that afternoon_, over the phone I asked him _iff_ we are to pursue something between us, should we think of what people would say? He told me that same line: _What we do in our own time is ours and not anybody's business._ His confidence was encouraging, leading me to confirm a time for our dinner appointment.

Dinner _date_ actually. He told me to dress up. And after six blouse changes and four skirt switches, I finally settled on a red velvet cocktail dress. I didn't even know I had one until I emptied my closet onto my bed. I was sure that Mac never saw this dress before (plus I bought new shoes to match). He went through a lot to hide where we were going tonight so in turn, I was determined to knock his socks off.

He said he'd be picking me up at 7:30 p.m. "I won't be using my key," he said with a wink before we left work today. He also said that he wanted my hair down. I hoped he remembered my request regarding his dinner attire.

With two minutes to spare, my doorbell rang. I shakily walked to the door and, as my wont, peeked into the peephole. _Oh_, he forgot. I released all the locks and slowly opened the door a crack. "You're overdressed," I said, meeting his eyes and chuckling.

Damn, this man could dress. He traded his usual white long-sleeved striped shirt for a sleek blue one. I recognized his tie as his favorite one from about three years ago. His tailored jacket hung over his bent arm. "I have flowers," he said, showing me a bouquet of white lilies and bright yellow daisies. That made me smile so I opened the door wider for him to come in and see me.

I might not have gotten my desired wardrobe for him but I was sure as hell I got the reaction I was rooting for. As soon as I opened the door and got the flowers from his grasp, his jaw went slack and his eyes widened like saucers. I turned around to put the flowers in a vase when I heard a sigh. It kind of slipped from my mind that the back of my dress dips until my lower back. I had to purchase a stick-on bra just for this dress.

Mac looked like he was ready to salivate. His mouth was hanging open, eyeing me up and down shamelessly. I stood there in front of him suddenly bashful. I wrapped my arms around myself and hid my face behind my hair. "Stella…" he finally said, grasping my wrist and cupping my cheek, "You're very beautiful." I leaned in to his warm hand and smiled.

"Thank you, I try," I said, pulling him inside for a while.

"Oh you don't have to try for me, Stella," he replied, draping his coat over the back of my couch.

I knew that and I told him. "I just want to make the other men jealous of you," I joked, disappearing to my room to apply a light perfume. It was true. Because I was so sure that the other women will be jealous of me.

When I went back out, Mac was waiting there with my coat ready. He had put his on and he was looking plenty handsome. "Ready to go?" he asked with a shy smile, trying not to stare.

"One more thing," I said walking over to him. He rolled his eyes at this delay. I took my coat from him and proceeded to remove his tie and unfasten the top button of his shirt.

"Stella…" he said with a warning in his voice albeit the chuckling.

"What? You get your eyeful and I don't? So fair of you, Detective," I kidded. The silk tie was left on the armrest of the couch with the afghan I kept there for cold nights. "And besides, you just want me taking these things off of you."

I instantly blushed as soon as those words flew out of my mouth. _Tactless_, Stella. I looked down to our shoes and proceeded to chew my lip. My ears were burning and I wished the ground would just swallow me up. But instead, Mac lifted my chin and said, "It's okay, Stella." He leaned closer until our noses touched and whispered, "We'll get there."

He _did not_ just say _that_!

The next thing I knew was I was bundled up in my coat and he was leading me out the door, customary hand on the small of my back. He was tracing lines and circles against the warm cloth of my coat. _Hah_, I guess he was wishing he was touching skin instead of fabric. The thought did nothing to calm me.

The car ride was short, thanks to the lack of traffic that night. The interior of the car smelled of his cologne. On the radio was an old jazz track, the singer's velvety voice setting the mood for the evening.

When we arrived at the place, Mac took my hand and led me into this nice first-class French bistro. It was a private restaurant – all its clients should have reservations. There was wall-to-wall carpeting; gold drapes framed the lace curtains, a polished grand piano sitting on an elevated platform right in the middle of the dining area. A man was playing 'Edelweiss' on it with violin accompaniment supplied by a well-dressed woman.

"Ah… Monsieur Taylor," the maître d' exclaimed in his heavy French accent. Wow, we hadn't even introduced ourselves yet. "Reservation for two, oui?" Mac nodded and the man ticked off something off the record book in his hand. The music stopped and half the room applauded. I took the liberty of scanning the room.

Majority of the tables were for two. Three or four were for a family or group of four. There was a single red candle on the middle of the round tables. The tablecloth on every table was a deep dark blue going down to the floor. A complementary bottle of champagne in a wine cooler was given to each couple. The lighting was subdued and pair that with the music, the mood was marvelous.

I was so flattered that Mac decided to take me here. All the while, I was holding his hand while he conversed with the maître d'. I looked at him and I hooked my arm onto his. I smiled at him and placed my head on his shoulder.

"You okay?" he asked, placing an errant strand of my hair behind my ear.

"A little bit overwhelmed," I admitted with a sigh. "But I'm happy. Thank you, Mac."

He lifted my face up and kissed my nose. And I actually _giggled_.

"Monsieur and Mademoiselle," the maître d' interrupted our little bubble, "Jacques here will show you to your table and attend to your orders." A blond young man, no older than twenty-five, bowed low and showed us the way.

It was near the back of the restaurant, away from prying eyes. Two other couples were there in the area. 'Jacques' helped us to the champagne and hors d'oeuvre, lighting the solitary candle. He then presented us with the menu. When he asked what we were getting, it turned out that he was from Long Island, New York and _not_ France.

"My name is actually Jack but Monsieur Blanchard insisted on the French name," he explained with a shy smile. "I would recommend…" he then proceeded to introduce several dishes.

I glanced at Mac. He was looking at the menu with a serious look on his face. I stared at him, his face illuminated by the candlelight. "What?" he chuckled when he caught me.

"Order for me, Mac," I said, shutting the menu closed and smiling at him. He smiled and enumerated choice dishes worth three courses and dessert.

"You're going to stuff me full by the end of tonight," I joked, fingering the table napkin on my lap.

"No such thing, Stella," he joked, adding a salad to the list. "I've seen you gobble down three plates last NYPD dinner. One night of indulgence wouldn't hurt."

I laughed out loud. "Are you insinuating that I eat like a _man_?" we both laughed. Jack went away to attend to our orders.

"I wasn't," he answered after recovering from our laughter. "I was commenting on your _excellent_ metabolism."

Oh that's lame. "I'll let you pass today, Mac. But say something like that again… I would…"

The thought wasn't finished because Monsieur Blanchard sidled over to our table with a bouquet of roses. "Ah Mademoiselle," he said with flair, "these flowers do not stand a chance against your beauty." _Come. On._ "Fifteen. Just like what Monsieur Taylor requested." And just like that, he glided away.

Mac was looking everywhere but to my direction. I was admiring the fresh roses placed on my lap. "Fifteen, Mac?" I asked, sniffing a bloom.

"One for…" he stammered. He was shy; I could tell. "One for…"

"One for every year we've known each other," I finished for him, taking his hand and giving it a squeeze. "Thank you. This means a lot." His cheeks turned pink.

Dinner was a very fun time for the both of us. We've been working easy cases lately – leaving the more complicated ones to the others to work on as a team. I told him about what happened in the lab whilst he was away. It was refreshing to hear him laugh so much after what happened to him.

When we finished off our last course, silence enveloped us again. "So…" he sighed. For some reason, I was shy again. And so was he. I was a bit lightheaded after drinking most of the champagne (he had to drive me back to my place after all).

"So…" I mirrored, meeting his eyes.

"Do you want to dance?" he asked as I realized the piano was playing something familiar. He stood up and pulled my chair back so I could stand. He took my hand and led me to the dance floor. There were already two couples dancing.

I placed my hands behind his head and his rested on my hips. Slowly, we started to sway to the song. _My Funny Valentine_. I rested my head against the crook of his neck as I giggled, "You chose this song because of the 'Greek' part, didn't you?"

"Guilty as charged," his voice rumbled against my cheek. He felt very warm. His hands were struggling not to place themselves on my back. I started stroking his hair and nape, hoping that he'd get the message that it was okay.

_And he did. _Goosebumps erupted all over my body as his hand made first contact with the skin of my back.

I was pressed against him; his warmth was my warmth. "What are you doing to me?" he sighed, pulling me ever closer.

_I_ should be asking _him_ that question.

The song ended and the couples left the floor. But we stayed where we were, as we were. A new song began to play and new couples joined us. We swayed to 'Unchained Melody' (the restaurant had a steady supply of sappy love songs). I felt elated.

"Let's go?" he said after the first chorus. I nodded and led me back to our table. He called Jack and asked for our bill. He purposely kept it from my eyes. "I _am_ paying, Stella," he chuckled when I tried to reach for the slip of paper. I slinked over to my side pouting. "You're so cute when you do that."

Let it be put on record that Mac Taylor has a romantic side. He's not the hard, uptight _Detective_ Mac Taylor 100 of the time. I was honored that he showed this side of him to me.

hr 

_MJ – ayus lang. eto, baka OOC na. haha. Ayoko kasing straight to the smex agad eh. Walang thrill hahahahah… kaya yun – angst muna before anything else._

_Serien – oh it's okay. :)_

_Cjfun – lol, I'm NOT a fan of Danny/Lindsey. But it's okay though. To each his own, I guess. There's one more "perfect couple" in CSI:NY in my book hahahahah…_

_Alisa – thanks so much_

_Mandi – idk… like Mac said, "We'll get there…" LOL_

_Mo – I almost wanted Stella to run into his arms. After all, she wanted that too. But that wouldn't be much of a "new idea", would it? _


	11. Happy

_**A/N: OMG! FINALLY! I updated. Thank goodness!**_

_**Are you guys still with me? I sure hope so. One more exam for me and I'm officially on semestral break. More time to write and update. **_

_**This is another long one. And hopefully, this is a good one.**_

_**Thanks and enjoy!**_

CSINYCSINYCSINYCSINY

_But these places and these faces are getting old,_

_So I'm going home_

_I'm going home_

I walked Stella up to her apartment after we spent an hour just walking around her block. I parked my car across the street from her building and, "The night's really pretty, Mac. It's a shame to waste it," she said pulling my hand.

So we walked. The stores were still open; the distinct smell of coffee was coming from 24-hour diners. I was holding her hand; she was leaning against my shoulder, sighing happily from time to time. Not many words were exchanged because we were contented with just our contact.

It felt nice. The change of situations that Stella and I had for that night was different but we managed to get with it. Stella, that night was my _date_. Not just my colleague. Not just my friend. That afternoon when I first opened up to her, she was apprehensive (as I was) but I felt that she wanted this, too. I knew she wanted to run away, to escape it all before it overtook her yet when I told her that I was going to ride this train with her, she agreed to go with me.

I must admit that I've always wondered what was with Stella that set her apart from other women. Her being special… I used to chalk it up to her being my _best friend_. That she understood me best because she _stayed_. I developed a respect for Stella. _An admiration_.

And somewhere there, _I_ _fell in love with her._ Only I was too convinced that what I was feeling was that admiration I had for her. Everything she did made me happy. Well, _almost_ everything. For those little mishaps, I forgave her. It was hard to stay mad at her. It got to a point that every time she passed by, my eyes followed her. Danny and Sheldon caught me spacing out once or twice.

Holding her the way I was felt different but at the same time, it felt so natural. She fitted so well in my arms when we were dancing. Her hand had a firm grip disguised by its delicate appearance. She was so beautiful tonight. I was almost sad that the night had to end and tomorrow, we were back to being _Detectives_ Taylor and Bonasera again.

"I had fun tonight, Mac," she said, holding me at arm's length by her door. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," I said, cupping her left cheek. I wanted to kiss her. Just to properly cap off the 'date'. Though, I wasn't sure if she would allow me.

Stella sighed and chuckled. "We should do this again, you know," she shyly said, her eyes looking down.

_Oh thank God!_

I was actually wondering if she'd want me to ask her again. My hand stayed trembling on her cheek. "Can I…" _you can do this, Taylor_, "Can I?"

She finished the thought for me. With her heels, Stella was the same height as me. All she had to do was walk two steps forward and lean closer. I felt her soft lips on the right edge of my own. Her eyes were closed as I felt the slight pressure of the very chaste kiss. I pursed my lips to return the kiss.

We stayed like that for a few seconds but those moments were the highlights of my day. My hands were itching to pull her closer; to deepen the kiss; move a few millimeters to the right so I can _really_ kiss her. But as soon as the semi-kiss started, it ended. Stella pulled away and managed to unlock her door while I was still recovering.

"Good night, Mac," she said, half-hidden by her door. "See you tomorrow."

"You, too," I said when I regained my bearings. She smiled one more time and closed the door. I heard the locks click and her soft footsteps walking away.

My heart was racing on my way back to the car. _What a night_! On my drive home, I replayed the night in my head. The lilies, the daisies, _her dress_, my tie, the roses, the food, the dancing, the walk, the kiss. _The kiss._ I had a smile on my face until I woke up the next morning.

I found Stella in the locker room the next day, strapping on her gun and badge. "Morning, Mac," she simply said with a smile, not hinting of anything that happened last night. Danny was also there, so that would explain why.

Danny sat on the bench behind me, tying his shoes. "She's pretty sunny today," he whispered and pointing his thumb towards Stella's direction. "Went in 'ere hummin' and all. With a spring in her step; there's a box of cookies in the break room even." He lowered his voice even more that I had to lean in to hear him. "I'm tellin' ya, boss. There is one person in this room who got some action last night. And it ain't me."

I almost dropped my gun. _What?_ I had to bite my cheek to keep myself from laughing out loud. All I could say was, "What makes you say that?" I stood up and holstered my gun. Poor Messer, _if only you knew_.

Danny checked if Stella was still busy with the stuff in her locker and leaned on the locker beside mine. "Just look at her, Mac. Ever the strands of her hair are happy," he whispered, his hands doing half of the talking for him.

Stella broke out into a humming of a song from some musical. And Danny shot me a look that said, "_See what I mean_?" I'd learned that it was useless to argue with Danny Messer when it comes to non-work-related matters.

"Happy today, Stella?" I said out loud just to satisfy Danny's curiosity.

She wheeled around and closed her locker with her foot, still humming. "Oh you know it," she said with a wide smile. She did look happy. _Did I really make her that happy last night?_ "I had a _great time_… last night." She winked and Danny chuckled.

"Oh man," the younger CSI sighed. "That's all I need to hear." He made a beeline to the door.

Before he completely exited the room, Stella added, "I was on a date, Messer. That's all." Danny waved in acknowledgement. Stella's eyes connected with mine. "And a fine date that was."

_I had to agree_. But my voice wasn't working so I let my smile do it for me.

When we left the locker room, we were back to professional mode. In the office, it was like last night did not exist. The smiles didn't mean anything but professional satisfaction and every time I looked at her, she was in a white lab coat. _Not_ in that glorious cocktail dress that left _so little_ to the imagination.

Every time we talked, there was no telling glint in her eyes. Although by the bye, she would be playful.

We overheard some female lab techs admire Flack's new haircut. Stella did comment that it suited the young detective very well. She turned to me and stared with interest in her eyes. "What?" I asked with a chuckle.

She tapped her chin with her index finger and hmm-ed. Her eyes traveled up and down until she said, "Don't you change your hair, okay?" And as if it was nothing, she went back to processing the area rug in front of her.

I shook my head in disbelief. Disbelief on how easily we were able to weave in and out of flirting and professionalism. Disbelief on the way Stella checked me out _blatantly_. Disbelief because we were dating and we were hiding it from everybody.

Not that it was any of their business. It was kind of _exciting_ actually. Having a secret – a secret I shared with someone I work so closely with.

At shift's end, I got my chance to get back at her for her earlier comment. We were both in the locker room and Lindsey was talking to Stella about the musical _RENT_. "Yeah, remind me to bring the DVD tomorrow," Stella said, brushing her hair back. "And make sure you have enough popcorn this weekend."

"What's going on this weekend?" I asked just to get in to the conversation.

Lindsey yanked open her locker and answered, "Stella's going to introduce me to _RENT_. Might not be the stage play but the movie musical will do." The younger CSI sat down and laced her sandals. "Want to join us? Flack and Danny would be there, too. Beer will be on my brother. He'll be here for two weeks."

Okay, those dashed my plans for a weekend out with Stella. Good thing I haven't made any concrete plans yet. Stella's eyes were trained on mine. A smirk playing on her lips. "I'll get back to you on that, Lindsey," I answered. Somehow, I wasn't entirely sure that I won't be spending the weekend without Stella.

"Come on, Mac," Lindsey almost whined, "All work and no play…"

"Makes Mac Taylor a very dull boy," Stella finished with a faux frown to complete the effect. "And no _woman_ would _want _that, right Lindsey?" Even then in plain sight, she managed to flirt with me. The younger woman agreed.

_Oh you're on, Stella Bonasera_. "I do come out and play," I said, undertones of a challenge in my voice. "Like _last night_," Stella visibly stiffened and her eyes were saying, "Don't you _dare_…"

Lindsey lit up immediately. But Stella beat her to the retort. "And who was the _unfortunate_ woman?" she clearly accepted my challenge. Her eyebrow shot up but I knew it was just a bluff. She wasn't sure whether I would make up a story or distort the truth.

I held her gaze for a while and gave in, "A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell, Stella. _You_ know that." I heard, more than seen, her release a sigh of relief.

"Aw… you're no fun, Mac," Lindsey whined again. "Well, I'm off. The offer still stands." And Stella and I were alone again.

"I'm appalled, Stella," I told her in mock hurt. Turning my back to her, I continued, "Having dinner with me… '_unfortunate_'?" I made a show of shaking my head in defeat.

I heard her chuckle and sit on one of the benches. "Well, better me than other women out there, you know," she countered. "So come to think of it, I _sacrificed_ myself to save those women out there from _you_." Her voice had a tone of humor.

We laughed out loud until someone game in and interrupted us. Unfortunately, it was Danny with Flack in tow, arguing over baseball scores. "Oh hey Mac, Stella," Flack said upon spotting us.

"Hey Don," Stella and I chorused. Danny's eyebrows shot up in amusement. Flack distracted him again.

I turned back to the only female in the room and asked, "So… if you see it that way. Was your _sacrifice_ worth it?"

The mischievous glint in her eyes was back again. She leaned closer to me and answered, "I would willingly do it _again_." And winked. "It was more than I bargained for and so, I can't wait for the next time." She paused, as if unsure. "That is… that is if…"

Flack and Danny fell silent. I knew they were eavesdropping. I decided to give them what they quieted down for. "Oh there will be a next time. Don't worry about that," I said in a rather loud voice.

Stella looked like she was stuck in the moment, not noticing the two men behind us. She had a soft smile on her face as she squeezed my left shoulder.

Somebody coughed, snapping Stella back to reality. She withdrew her hand as if burnt. Her eyes flew to the other occupants of the room who were conveniently engaged in a conversation.

"_So,_ Don_…_" Danny said, "we still on for hoops next week?" He tried to seem oblivious but Danny was no master of poker faces.

Flack, however, was. "Yeah sure. The guys in the 1-6 are itchin' for a rematch," the taller detective said, flicking something invisible from his yellow and green striped tie. He cleared his throat and continued, "Not to mention the Manhattan Major Case up against the Vice guys."

"Want to watch, Stella?" Danny asked, closing his locker. "Laramie from the 1-6 Homicide will be there." My attention went fully to his every word. "Those guys don't stand a chance against us so yeah, _he_ could use some – oh I don't know, _inspiration_ maybe?" Stella smiled shyly and giggled.

_Laramie_? That thrice-married loudmouth? _No…_ Stella would _never_ give that loser a time of her day.

"Yeah," Flack followed. "Poor guy's been askin' for your number from everybody. Won't get it from me, that's for sure." Danny said the same. "I doubt anybody would."

"Good for them," I said under my breath. I thought nobody heard it but Danny sniggered. "_What?_" He just shrugged and hid his evil grin. _Oh crap… _so much for keeping secrets.

Stella slid over next to me and laughed. She then said, "_Relax_. I'll be there. But I'll be cheering for you guys. Why would I root for the _another_ when the _best_ is on _my side_?"

I'd be _stupid_ if I hadn't read into that. Her smirk at my direction was a great clue as well.

"Right, _Mac_?" she said, elbowing me slightly.

"I'll watch the game with you," I said – more to her than to the men. "Then you guys can treat us to hotdogs after the game." Danny and Flack agreed and excused themselves from the room.

Little did Stella and I know that outside the locker room, Danny paid Flack $20, scowling.

Back inside, Stella and I gathered our things and decided to head on to our own homes. I walked her to her car and watcher her drive off.

CSINYCSINYCSINYCSINY

_Cryingblacktears – oh yes. How many times had he held the door open for Stella. :)_

_NM 42 – thank you very much._

_Mercy – well, thank you. I hope this one's good._

_Serien – so true. I think there's another side of Mac that the writers did not show when he was with Peyton (that is, assuming that they are no longer). I wanted to show that._

_Mo – you know for sure that we are going to get "there". ;)_

_Alisa – oh we all know that Mac is one hot man! Haha_

_Moska – so true. I just wished that the writers showed that. But hey, we wouldn't want to see that romantic streak wasted on someone other than Stella, right? LOL._

_MJ – oo naman. Thrill muna. Build up before the SMex! Grabe, ang benta nung line na yun haha. _


	12. Hello Kitty

_**A/N: Hello there. Here's one more installment. I have more time to write now so expect shorter waiting time in between chapters. **_

_**This is a sweet yet tense little chapter. I hope you like this.**_

_**Thanks!**_

CSINYCSINYCSINYCSINY

_Be careful what you wish for,_

_'Cause you just might get it all_

By the end of the day, Lindsey and her teenage niece Michelle were well acquainted with the concept of 'no day but today'. Lindsey's brother, Ruben spent the day talking baseball with Danny, Don and… what do you know, _Mac_. Sheldon and Adam begged off because they had their own errands to do.

Mac actually got me convinced that he was not going. He purposely piled paperwork on his desk the Friday before and locked himself up in his office the whole day. He did not go to any crime scene nor go out to eat. He had food _delivered_ to his office.

When I asked him if he was joining us that Saturday, he simply eyed the towers of folders on both ends of his desk. _Message sent_. Fine! Don't join us.

And I actually _felt bad_ that he wasn't going with us. I shut my locker door quite violently when I headed out. "Whoa Stell," Adam, who happened to be there said, "the locker's innocent until proven guilty." I glared at him for a second and we both laughed.

I felt silly. Like a jealous and suspicious girlfriend. And all was had was one date. _One single date_. I stomped past Mac's office on my way to the elevator that day.

The next day, I was awoken by dishes clattering in my kitchen. The smell of Darjeeling tea was irresistible so I dragged myself out of bed. I didn't even mind that there was another person in my house and I didn't know who it was yet. So, clad in a pink silk robe and bed hair, I braved to look into my kitchen… unarmed and vulnerable.

"Mac!" I exclaimed in relief. He stopped stirring the pancake batter and turned to me.

"Stella, you're looking good," he casually said giving me a quick once-over. Suddenly, I felt self-conscious – flattening my hair and pulling my robe tighter around me. Good thing I didn't wear the dark green one that stopped at mid-thigh. One look at my feet and he was really laughing. "I never pegged you for a Hello Kitty fan," he said.

Christmas last year, the lab techs decided to have an exchanging of gifts activity. Together with Sheldon and Flack, I joined them. I picked Chad's name from the hat and Adam got mine. For the week before Christmas, the gift theme was 'something soft'. I gave Chad a pillow with his name on it. And well, a rather bashful Adam handed me a gift bag with the message, "Please don't open here." I opened it in the privacy of my home and saw the cutest pair of bedroom shoes. Ever since, Hello Kitty had taken residence beside my bed.

"What are you doing here?" I asked the man in my kitchen. "How did you get in?"

I was never comfortable with _men_ inside my house. Especially those who come in without knocking. I haven't fully recovered from the incident that happened to me about two years before. An ex-boyfriend held me hostage and I – well, I shot and killed him right under this roof.

But Mac wasn't just any other man. I trusted him with my life and more. I even said that in court, under oath and on record. "There is no other person whom I trust more both professionally and _personally_."

"You gave me a key, remember?" he said, going back to the batter. I pulled up a chair and sat down to watch him. "And I took the liberty of making you breakfast since I know how _lazy_ you are on your days-off."

I let that pass. There was some truth into that anyway. "This is a very early rise for me," I admitted. On my days off, I usually awake around noon. It was just 8 in the morning. "Don't you have a job to do today?" I couldn't remember the last time Mac skipped work for no apparent reason.

He placed a mug of tea on the table in front of me and fired up the griddle – one of the influences of the Food Network on me. "Yeah, I do," he said. He then paused. I was going to continue the conversation when he said, "Make you breakfast, take you out for lunch and go with you and the gang at Lindsey's later today." He ticked off fingers as he enumerated his itinerary. "Then again, none of those really qualify as _work_."

Darjeeling was too delicious to end up in a spray over my dining room table. I managed to swallow the liquid before I reacted. I stared at him with wide eyes and studied his mien to see if he was just pulling my leg. "You're serious?"

"About which one? The breakfast?" he pointed the cooking pancakes. "The lunch? I'll let you pick. And the afternoon? I'll even drive you to and from Lindsey's." He said all that with his back towards me, plating the food.

I could just hug him right then and there. _And I did_. He froze for a moment and then sighed. He let go of the spatula and stroked my arm. I placed my head on his shoulder and said, "Thank you." I wanted to kiss his neck but I didn't want to freak him out. The thought actually freaked _me_ out. Why did it feel so natural to think – and probably _do_ that?

After breakfast, I loaded up the dishwasher and headed off to the bathroom to take a bath. I let Mac have a go at my bookshelves and TiVo whilst I prettied up. I was feeling happy that morning so I picked a pink knitted blouse and jeans. I placed my wedge heels beside the bedroom door and walked barefooted to the living room. I found him on my couch reading_ Vogue _of all things.

He looked up when he saw me. "Should I be scared?" I asked pointing to the glossy magazine in his hands. The pages were turned to the Fall Fashion line of some new designer. He just chuckled.

I sat beside on the opposite end of the couch and took the magazine. He turned on the stereo and Patty Griffin's version of 'Moon River' filled the air. I looked at him, his right arm stretched along the back of the sofa, almost touching the curls of my hair. I took that as a cue to scoot closer. His warm palm felt good against my cheek.

I haven't kissed him yet. I wanted to. But I felt that if I did, I wouldn't be able to stop myself from having it all. And we both agreed to take things slowly. We do not have any idea where this will take us but as the song went – _we're after the same rainbow's end_.

"_Moon… river… and me_," I sang softly as his hand stroked my cheek. I didn't even realize that I was singing. I was so lost in the moment. Mac traced my lips with his thumb, barely touching my skin.

He moved closer until he could hug me. I settled my head against his heart and sighed. It was nice to curl up against somebody. Especially if that somebody is one of the special people in your life.

I felt, rather than heard him singing the same line I sang a moment ago. "_…And me_…"

The song ended and another one began. We figured neither of us were in the mood for 'Here Comes the Sun' so Mac turned the unit off. I was surprised that it didn't even feel the tiniest bit awkward. It was like being wrapped up in Mac's arms was natural for me.

And then, "That was Claire's favorite song," he said, barely audible. I looked up and listened closely. "She would always hum that when she's in the kitchen or before slipping under the covers." I guess he was talking about the ad lib in the song. He took a deep breath and continued, "We would sing it together for no reason at all… it was like we were drunk teenagers sans the alcohol."

It was nice to hear Mac talk about Claire. He almost never did ever since she passed. He would mention her from time to time; his faraway look was a hint that he was thinking about her. I know that it pained him to do so – then again, it wasn't healthy to keep it all inside.

"She was one big Beatles fan," he said. His eyes were beginning to tear up as he continued to talk. And I knew that he wanted to talk and not to be disturbed. His hand was between my shoulder blades. "Claire would have their songs on a loop as she balanced work sheets and ledgers." Mac chuckled at the memory. It was taking a lot from him not to let a tear fall. But when I stroked his cheek, a single tear fell.

I felt that it was my turn to say something. "Sorry if I upset you," I whispered. _Lame_, I know – but it was somewhat true.

Apparently, he didn't see the point, "What are you talking about?" he asked, placing an errant strand of my hair behind my ear.

"It's my music player," I said. My purpose was to lighten up the mood. Yet… it wasn't working. Mac looked at me as if I was demented. Not a wee bit amused.

His hand stroked my back. At last, he smiled. "It's alright." _That_ was when I picked the precise time to crack a joke.

"That's the best you can do?" I said with my eyebrow up. He sat up straighter, taking me with him. "Come on… was that Mac Taylor _singing_?"

We cackled so hard that I fell on the floor. It was his turn to ask for my well-being. I assured him that I was okay and managed to calm down. When we were quiet again… a siren rang from afar, my neighbor's dog yipped at his mother-in-law, kids laughing on the street – he laced his hand through my hair and kissed my forehead. He held his lips there for a few seconds and leaned back.

"Let's go?" he asked out of the blue. "Lunch?"

At that moment, I knew it was wise not to give a smart retort. Or any at all. _Lunch_? I couldn't agree more.

"You still in New York, Stella?" Lindsey asked, flopping on the spot next to me, effectively snapping me out of my daydream. I looked at her and I must've looked confused because she said, "I've been calling your name three times and you were just smiling."

"Oh… well, I…" you _what_, Stella? "Uhm…"

"Never mind that," she brushed off. "I just want to ask you if Michelle and I can borrow your DVD for a few weeks. My brother will get us tickets to the play and Michelle wants to have the songs memorized."

By then, I had recovered my senses. "Sure, no problem. Watch it as much as you want," I said. Lindsey smiled.

"Whoever that is, Stella," she said in a hushed voice, "I hope he's good for you." And she was gone to get more chips. _Oh he definitely is._

The boys decided to make an appearance at around seven in the evening. We decided to call it a night. Don and Danny reminded everyone of the game next week and left.

After a dinner of a Wendy's salad and mushroom burgers, Mac and I met up with the younger detectives at Sullivan's. I stayed for one mug of beer and one round of pool before I begged off for home. And like he promised, Mac offered to drive me home.

When we arrived at my building, he put the car in park and turned off the radio. For the first time since things changed between us, that was the first time it became awkward. His eyes refused to meet mine. I glanced at him from time to time but kept my gaze to the street in front of the car.

Every thing and everyone were in twos. A couple of yuppies were walking home. A pair of young lovers was enjoying the rare silence of that night. Two dogs were curled up on a stoop beside Mister Ming's Food House.

And then there was us. Two respected NYPD detectives beating around the bush.

"Mac," I started.

"Huh?" he said without looking up.

I took his hand in mine and asked, "Do you want to come up?" I wanted it to lead _that_ way but seriously, I meant it in the most innocent way.

Apparently, he thought otherwise. "Stella… I…"

"Just for coffee," I said right away. I didn't want him to get the wrong idea – which was what he was getting. "I have Bailey's."

"Stell…" he started. He stroked my upper arm to my elbow. That part of my body tingled. "Uhm…" I knew he was trying to think of something nice to say in place of a rejection. He took my other hand in his and, "Stella, we'll…"

"We'll get there, I know," I finished for him. His eyes lit up in understanding and my heart decided to do somersaults. He kissed my palm. "Good night, Mac."

He froze. _Oops_, wrong tone of voice. "I'm…" he was beginning to apologize but I wasn't going to have it.

"Mac, Mac… it's alright," I reassured him. "Really. It's okay. It's getting late anyway." _And claustrophobic._ His hand was still in mine and gave it a squeeze. "I'll see you tomorrow." _If we get called in_. It was Sunday the next day but crime never takes a break.

Mac unlocked the doors and watched me go out of the car. "Blink your lights twice, okay?" he called out. I waved in acknowledgement and went into the building. Once in my unit, I flickered my living room lights to let him know I arrived safely.

Going out to a romantic dinner with him was okay. I could still face him the next day. But asking him to _come up_?

"What the hell were you thinking, Stella Bonasera?" I said out loud to an empty apartment. I collapsed on my bed, clothes and shoes and all. On my _empty_ bed. "Looks like it's just you and me, Hello Kitty."

CSINYCSINYCSINYCSINY

_NM 42 – Yum! Oh yeah, Mac is yummy in whatever haha. And Stella's flirting with Mac and neither of them know it. LOL._

_Serien – Stella's always ruffling Mac's feathers haha._

_Mo – only a couple more chapters until we get "there" ;)_

_Justawritier – I'm a bit biased on Tag Jones lol._

_Mandi – La Vieeeeee…. Bo-heme!!!!_

_MJ – 100__th__ review!!!_


	13. Come Up

_**A/N: Dang! That's a long ass wait! Apologies all around… the AC adapter of my laptop died on me. Good thing I have this on my flash disk as well.**_

_**This is a cute chapter of flirting. And of course, what story of mine is without Danny and Flack? I hope you enjoy this one!**_

CSINYCSINYCSINY 

_You just might get it all,_

_And then some you don't want_

Grunt. Turn. Pull. Turn over. Grunt again.

I didn't think sleep would come to me that night.

Not after what happened in the car between Stella and I in front of her apartment building. Not with all the good _and_ bad thoughts swimming in my head.

_Not with a part of my anatomy starting to throb between my legs_.

"Damn you, Taylor!" I muttered to myself, sitting up and taking a very deep breath. I let go of that breath slowly. "Damn you for having such an overworked brain and an underused limbic system."

My internal battle with libido and logic was keeping me from saying hello to sleep. "Stella _did not_ mean it _that way_," logical Mac Taylor kept on crying out. "There wasn't any _evidence_ that she wanted more than to share some more time with you in her home."

"Come on… you _know_ that it meant something _more_," libidinal Mac Taylor countered. "_You _know that and _she_ knows that." I sank deeper into the sheets. "She looked mighty fine in that silky pink number this morning, didn't she? Even with the slippers she looked fine. And oh, that deep red sleeveless top she was wearing? You're a liar if you tell me you didn't peek."

I couldn't believe it! "Shut. Up." I was technically _talking to myself_.

The throbbing wasn't going away and I knew I was past the point that it would. A cold shower should do it. _Hopefully_.

The shower was successful in keeping me awake for the rest of the night. In the end, I had to take care of _business_ myself. I clocked in about four hours of shut-eye before my phone rang.

"Did you get any sleep," a female voice said. My brain didn't quite function right away. "That's what I thought. Same here." _Stella_. "DOA near Wall Street. He's an early riser but his killer woke up earlier. Meet you there?"

How can she sound so awake? "Yeah okay. I'll be there," I mumbled.

"Flack's already there – another early riser," she chuckled. I heard echo on her end. She was probably in the bathroom.

"I'll just shower and I'll head on there," she said. "I'll see you." And then she clicked off, leaving me hanging there.

Shower. I already took mine in the early hours of the day. And Stella was just about to take hers. _Not, Taylor. _Do _not_ go _there_. I buried my head on my pillow and thought of other things. The dead body for example. The blood, the gore, the smell. That worked. _For now_.

Like she said, Flack was already at the scene when I arrived. "Where's Stella?" he asked, looking up from his note pad.

"Showering," I answered without thinking. _Shit._ Flack was smirking. "What? She was the one who called me."

Damn, that man could smirk. "Right. You should be grateful that I'm not Danny," he said as I walked over to the body. He said no more about the subject until Stella arrived.

He was right though. Danny wouldn't have let that die so easily. "Hey guys, sorry I'm late," she said, leaning over the body beside me.

"The body won't go anywhere, Stella," Flack said. "Enjoyed your shower?"

Stella dropped her MagLite. I chose to wander away to swab some blood drops some distance away. I heard her clear her throat twice before replying to the homicide detective. "I did, thank you very much for asking," she said shakily. Then I heard tape lifts being used and, "how about _you_, Mac Taylor? Enjoyed _your_ shower?"

Flack snorted. "You didn't mention any of your showers, Mac," he chuckled.

"What, Flack? Don't tell me you didn't shower." Stella.

"Me? I took a full bath," the taller detective said with his head up high, pulling the lapels of his coat. "My mom's in town."

"And she wants to see her baby boy clean," Stella joked back seamlessly. The three of us laughed. "Hey, someone's avoiding my question…"

_Oh Stella, if you only knew the reason I took a shower._

"I took a shower to wake up, Stella," I sighed in defeat. There is no beating a determined Bonasera. "Come on, we all do that." Her smirk told me she didn't believe it. I just looked away, shaking my head.

The week went by with no more mentions of showers, dates or whatnot. That weekend we went out again to watch a basketball game between Don and Danny's team versus 1-6 precinct. When we arrived, the Major Case team was up by 7 points over Vice in the final quarter. While waiting, Don placed a six-pack of soda by Stella's feet and a paper plate with four hotdog sandwiches with everything on it.

"Enjoy!" he said before walking away to mingle with his team. Stella opened two soda cans and gave one to me. She was dressed in a navy blue V-neck tank top and jeans with her hair up. She looked beautiful, as always.

And as promised, Detective Barry Laramie from 1-6 Homicide was there. The moment he walked into the court, I scooted closer to Stella. She chuckled and said, "Relax! I meant what I said in the locker room last week." She nudged back and placed her head on my shoulder. "I can't believe you'd take that seriously, Mac."

Laramie was a heavyset man with thinning grey hair and a bushy mustache. He was divorced three times, no kids but as his colleagues said, he was a running sexual harassment suit. I worked with him early in my career with the NYPD and he was one of those who questioned science in crime solving. I remember when I was processing a crime scene and he was right outside the room, blabbering about how slow my partner and I were working and what a waste of time we all were doing inside when we can use the time to chase the perpetrator instead. My partner told me to drown out the noise and in the duration of the investigation, I learned how to do that.

"Well, he has voiced his… well, _admiration_ for you, Stella," I replied. I felt her chuckle. "Not to mention the whole NYPD probably knows about it yet does nothing to feed the fire."

"Yeah, I'm guessing they're on my side on this," she said, taking a bite off the sandwich. She lifted her head up as Detectives Vicaro, Thacker and Flack went by us.

Vicaro looked up and exclaimed, "Oh yeah, we have a muse now, yous guys!" Stella chucked a crumpled napkin at him and laughed. "With good aim, too. We should have her in the team, Flack."

"Oh Laramie would like that," Flack replied and they went off. Upon mention of his name, the said detective looked up and spotted us. Right away, Danny was beside Stella, sandwiching her between us.

"Don't look now," he muttered under his breath. "Hi Barry," the younger man said good-naturedly. "Ready to mop the court?"

That had me smiling. "Happy ta see ya here, Messer," Laramie replied coldly. "Taylor," he nodded in my general direction without meeting my eyes. "Ah… La Bonita Bonasera." He bowed as much as he could with his bulging belly and the space.

"Barry," she peeped. "Good luck with the game." She locked eyes with me and then with Danny. "_You're _going to _need_ it."

I don't know, maybe he was just too thick because he said, "That is all I'll ever need, Mademoiselle." Okay, from Italian to French. What's next, Chinese? "I would like to bestow a kiss to your delicate hand in thanks."

Danny bit his lip to keep himself from laughing. And guessing by the way his shoulders were trembling, his control was running thin. Laramie had his pudgy hand, palm up and outstretched, reaching for Stella's free hands.

Right away, Stella wrapped her left arm around Danny's bicep and slipped her right hand under mine. I instantly intertwined my fingers with hers. I even made a show, making sure Laramie had seen it. That also meant Danny was also our audience but I was beyond caring at that moment.

"Sorry, Barry…" she grinned, "my hands are both full." She squeezed both hands and followed up, "_Very full_."

I glared at the other man. He was bad news and everyone knew it. The reason why he was still Detective was because the current chief of police was his war buddy. He glared back at me and our entwined hands. Stella squeezed one more time before Laramie shrunk in defeat.

"Very well then," he bowed again. "But I am still glad you are here to watch, Miss Bonasera."

"That's _Detective_ Bonasera, to you," Danny replied. "See you in _court_, Detective." Laramie grinned and nodded. We watched him walk away from earshot before we laughed.

Stella caught her breath and said, "_Damn_ Danny! Where do you hide these so-called arms?" Her hand traveled up and down Danny's biceps in approval.

"Well, my _Bonita Bonasera_," Danny said, "I don't need to hide these. You should talk," he pointed to our intertwined fingers with his lips.

I was surprised when she didn't pull away. I didn't either. Danny's eyes were trained on our hands, an understanding smile playing on his lips. My thumb traced circles on the back of her hand. Stella leaned against me and smiled.

"You won't hear it from me," Danny said, extracting himself from Stella's grasp. "Whatever you guys are doing, I wish you the best of luck." Flack called him over to their side of the court, getting ready for the game. "Won't even tell Flack, a'right?"

"Thanks, Danny," I said. "And good luck." He stood up and went to his team as the game started.

I never realized how much fun watching basketball was until I watched it with Stella. "Are you a cheerleader in your past life, Stella?" Flack asked when he took a break and was substituted by one of the rookie detectives. Every time they scored, she stood up and cheered madly – arms flailing and feet stomping.

"I've always been a basketball girl," she admitted after cheering for Vicaro, of all people. She downed another soda and continued, "Sweaty men, running around with a ball and some baskets – whoo!" The YMCA kids cheered once more for our team.

Flack laughed and took some Gatorade. "I never figured…" he was about to say something when he stopped abruptly. I followed his eyes and I froze. My left hand was on Stella's right knee.

"What?" Stella asked before she followed his eyes, too. "Oh." Flack looked at her and she smiled shyly. And then he looked at me.

"Well… s'bout time," he simply said before they went into halftime. _Now what was that supposed to mean?_ I looked at Stella and she was asking the same thing.

The sun was setting when the game finally concluded in favor of Flack and Danny's team. The guys showered and Stella offered to treat all of us for dinner. "Hey, I'm the rose among the thorns. Plus, I had a good time today."

I noticed Flack and Danny exchange glances. _Oh yes, _they knew that the other knew our secret. "Won't tell nobody," Danny supplied for the both of them.

Stella ruffled Danny's damp hair. She linked her arm back on his and we let Flack pick the place where we could eat. We went our separate ways after coffee; I drove Stella home. And like the other nights, we sat in the car in silence for a while.

"Those boys so think we're in a relationship, Mac," she broke the silence. Her tone was light but I could hear that she was also scared.

But I wasn't. "Let them think what they want to think," I said, turning off the radio. "We're not doing anything wrong." Against department policy, maybe; but it felt so right. I looked at her and she was smiling. The moonlight was hitting her face at the right angle and at the moment, she looked angelic. And I really wanted to kiss her.

"Thanks, Mac," she said yet she made no move to exit the vehicle.

I then made a very critical decision. "Can I… can I… come up?" I asked shakily. If she said 'no', I would understand. But what if she said 'yes'? What's next?

She seemed to think about it, hiding a smile. I was sweating bullets on my seat. "What if I _don't want_ you to come up?" she asked playfully.

"Fair enough," I said all too quickly. I couldn't meet her eyes for I initially thought it was a rejection. After all, I declined her same offer two weeks ago. And I honestly didn't know what else to say.

Then I heard her chuckle. "Mac," her hand was on my forearm, "what if I _want_ you to come up?"

Oh Lord God Almighty. My world stopped. Our breaths were the only sounds in the car. I faced her and took her hand in mine. The look in her eyes was so sure. I pulled her closer and finally kissed her.

I was never the Catholic choirboy but at that moment, I was singing with all the angels and saints. Her lips were soft and warm against mine – her eyelids fluttered close. Her other hand held my head in place and she deepened the kiss. When the need for air was dire, we separated with a soft moan.

"Yeah, let's go up," she whispered.

**CSINYCSINYCSINY**

MJ – don't worry… the rating is still on T. Will try to stay there haha 

_Justawritier – Moon River is LOVE._

_Mandi – "Oh… lover, I'll cover you…" XD_

_Mo – I want to get "there" as well but it won't be SMACked without the tension. LOL_


	14. 20 Questions

_**A/N: Dang, almost a month of no update! I'm sorry, lo siento, patawad, dui bu qi. Things have been really busy for me lately, early in the semester and already I have a lot to do. But for sure, I haven't forgotten you guys.**_

_**And to prove that, ANGST. Uh-huh, you know me. Angst runs through my fingers. So let me know what you think.**_

_**Thanks!**_

CSINYCSINYCSINYCSINY

_Be careful what you wish for,_

_'Cause you just might get it all._

_You just might get it all, yeah_

My hands were shaking so much that I dropped my keys. When I picked it back up, Mac took it from me and unlocked my door. He led me inside and placed the keys in the basket, my purse beside it. I looked at the mirror hanging on the wall and saw that my lips were swollen and my face was all flushed. _All in one kiss_!

I went straight to my kitchen and drank two glasses of water. _What the hell just happened?_ Mac was in my living room pacing – probably thinking of the same thing. Pacing and water drinking would not solve anything so I braved going into my living room and talking to him. I brought Mac a glass of water as well.

Against all odds, _I wanted to kiss him again!_ Seeing his lips on the edge of the glass – moist after taking a swig, a drop or two escaping. I _knew_ how they _felt_ against my lips. His gaze was intense that there was no looking away.

"Please don't hate me, Stella," he said in an almost whisper. He sat down heavily on my couch and sighed.

I sat down on the coffee table in front of him. Lifting his chin up to look at me, I said, "Is there any reason for me to hate you, Mac?" His eyes lit up and he smiled. I cupped his face in my hands and continued, "What happened in the car… that's bound to happen one way or another. Like you said… 'We'll get there', remember?"

He chuckled at the memory. Nodding, he admitted, "I've been wanting to do that for a long time now. And I… I wanted that moment to be special."

"But it was!" I insisted. His hands squeezed mine and I transferred to the spot beside him. In an innocent voice, I joked, "I've never made out in a car with my boss before."

Mac laughed out loud. "Naughty, naughty Stella," he said, bopping my nose with his index finger. "Do you fantasize about your previous bosses too?"

"Oh I don't know about the word _fantasize_ but…" I batted my eyelashes at him, "Not all of them I wanted to kiss." I bit my lower lip, waiting for his response.

This time, I initiated the kiss. It slow and sweet, unlike the one we shared in the car. I felt the tip of his tongue probe the seam of my lips and in no time, his arms were around me, pulling me closer to his body. My hands went under the jacket he was wearing, wanting to take them off.

"Whoa, wait…" he panted, stopping my hands with his and getting my attention. He planted one more kiss on my lips and said, "Slow down." I got off his lap, embarrassed out of my mind. I must admit that there were times where I could get aggressive but I practically jumped him. I caught my breath and glanced at him. "I know," he chuckled, running his fingers through his hair.

I licked my lips, still feeling his against them. He was about to say something when I beat him to it, "I know… _we'll get there_." We laughed and settled against each other on the couch. "Mac," I said. I felt him sigh in acknowledgement against my back. "What are we doing?"

I knew that I just ruined the mood – whatever that was. But I _had_ to know what was going on between us really. I wanted to know what he thought about everything between us right now. Because I don't know _how_ I feel and _what_ I feel.

"I don't know, Stella," he said. "That's why we're taking it slow." He held my hand and continued, "It will be what you want it to be. I'm here with you. I'll go wherever with you." He held me tighter and kissed my forehead.

Whatever this is, I like it. I turned and buried my head against his chest. I kissed his neck, up to his chin and finally pecked his lips. "Stay?" I asked against his lips. "For the night?"

"Are you sure?" he asked. He knew about my rule: _No men in my house._

"It's not too late to break my own rule, Mac."

0o0o0o0o0

The next morning, I woke up with two strong arms around my waist, soft snores in my ear. The fingers on one hand were tracing the top of my shorts, the other hand flat against my tummy. The green digits on my alarm clock bleared 6a.m. _Too early_.

Gingerly, I turned in his arms and studied him sleeping. The curve of his eyebrows, the point of his nose, the line of his lips.

We didn't make love last night. We just held each other – talking, laughing, tickling each other, kissing… until we fell asleep. I actually slept with my head cradled on his chest, his hands tangling with my curls.

He asked me if I'd be comfortable with him sleeping without his shirt on. _Hallelujah!_ As I changed in my bathroom into a tank top and a pair of shorts, I heard him drape his pants and shirt on one of my chairs and the clunk of shoes against my carpet. Then the rustle of my sheets being pulled from the bed and his body settling on it. Holy Almighty in heaven, I splashed water on my face to lower my body temperature.

"Maybe inviting him to spend the night might not be a good idea," I told my reflection on the mirror. "Maybe you should have taken his offer of him taking the couch."

"But that defeats the purpose of asking him to stay over at the first place," I replied to myself. "At least… with _my_ reasons." _What the hell were my reasons anyway?_ Sleeping and waking up beside a warm body perhaps? Or did I just wanted him near? Either way, my bed is big enough for the both of us. I pulled on my robe and ventured into my room.

This time, it was the dark green robe that showcased my legs. "Do you have anything under there?" he joked, looking mighty comfortable on the left side of my bed.

"Scoot over!" I said, pushing him to the other side. "This is _my_ side of the bed." He moved and I was welcomed by comforting body heat. "Ooohh… warm," I moaned, inhaling his scent on my pillow.

"I'm getting cold over here," he said with his arms open. I rolled nearer and _I swear_ – for as long as I live, I will never forget that first touch of skin to skin. I jolted back for a second. "Too warm?" he chuckled. I nodded but sank in his arms anyway.

And now, I was back in those same safe arms. Mac was still sound asleep but I had to get up. It was _his_ day-off but it wasn't mine. I slowly made a move to sit up when he started to stir. "Where do you think you're going?" he said in a sleepy rasp.

"One of us here has work to do," I answered in an equally weary voice. My eyes felt crusty so I brushed those 'morning glories' away. "You go back to sleep. I'll make breakfast."

I was slipping on my Hello Kitty when he made a grab for my arm. "Not so fast, Stella," he said, his voice stronger.

"Mac… I got to get to work," I whined, sitting heavily back on the bed. He sat up and pulled me in his arms.

"Good morning," he mumbled in my hair.

I murmured it back. "I'll leave an extra toothbrush for you on the sink, okay?" He nodded and continued to stroke my hair. "_Mac_, let go. _Work_ for me today."

"Says who?" his voice still muffled. He played with the straps of my tank top. "I'm your boss and if you don't come to work, I'd know why." This side of Mac Taylor, I didn't even know existed. Sweet, playful, _naughty_ even. I wonder if Peyton knew about it.

And then all of a sudden, I froze. _Peyton._ She decided not to return to New York. Hammerback and Pino were talking about it some days ago stating 'personal reasons' as her cause of not coming back. I felt sorry for her. I wonder how hard it was to let go of someone you love dearly. And she did love Mac. _Very much_. For that, I was thankful.

Mac must've felt me tense up because he asked if I was okay. I looked up and gave a weak smile. "As much as that sounds very enticing, Mac, I _really_ have to get to work," I excused myself and went to the bathroom.

I saw the way he looked at me, felt how he held me… and how I reacted to all of that. That's when I got scared and realized I had to get out before anything I could regret happens. I was in deep thought that I shampooed my hair three times. Oh well, at least I'd smell a tab bit more coconut-y today. Dressed in a fluffy bathrobe, I went to my closet to get my clothes for that day plus my makeup. Mac wasn't there but I could hear the drone of the TV outside.

He was already dressed in his clothes from yesterday, nursing a cup of coffee. He looked up when I stepped into the dining room. There was another cup waiting for me with a piece of toast. I accepted and ate in silence.

"I'm sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable," he said. I didn't look up as he continued, "I didn't… I wasn't myself. I didn't mean to offend you or rush you into anything, Stella. I'm really sorry."

Hearing him blame himself like that was hard to hear. Mac Taylor was a proud man yet he knew his place. I wasn't really offended but I was uncomfortable. But most of all, I was _scared_. Because if I did not stop it where I did, neither of us was getting out of bed.

I knew that negating him would make him feel guiltier. So I just smiled and squeezed his hand. He kissed my knuckles and thanked me.

On my way to work – again, with Mac driving me – he stopped three blocks away at a stoplight and took the opportunity to kiss me. "I haven't got the chance back at your place," he said with a bright smile on his face as we started moving again.

Work was same old-same old. Three cases came in atop our ongoing investigations. A junkie killed a dealer in an alley because she was given crack instead of smack. A domestic violence incident when big brother accidentally shot little brother when aiming for dad. Two shop owners burning down both their establishments with unknown causes. I was about to head out with Danny to the drug dealer case when a certain someone clocked in for the shift.

"Hey Mac!" Danny greeted him. "I thought it was your day-off." Mac called both of us to his office and wanted to hear about our scene. Danny supplied the details as the boss got his kit ready. "Whoa, you're coming with us?"

"Yeah," Mac simply said, leading us out to the parking garage. He placed his hand on my small of my back as we exited the building.

Danny chuckled. "Okay, I get it," he said, scratching his goatee. "_You're_ with _her_," he continued, pointing from Mac to me. The boss glared at him as if telling the younger man to shut up.

"Private joke?" I inquired as I rode shotgun. Danny offered to take the back seat.

"Let's just put it this way," the younger CSI said, "at least I'm not the _last_ one to hear about this."

Rewind a few months ago: layout lab, Hawkes working with me. Then Danny ambled over to me and whispered, "_Mac and Peyton_?" Hawkes and I sniggered. Oh yes Danny, always the last one to get the news yet the most excited over it.

"So… how long?" Danny started. "Since when? When'd you find out?"

Mac slowed the SUV down to let some commuters pass. "What's with the 20 questions?" he sighed, blasé. The crime scene was about 15 minutes from the lab with the traffic.

"Oh nothin'," he shrugged. "Just interested, y'know." He hauled himself forward and repeated his questions.

"Danny! We're not even in a…" I looked at Mac for confirmation but his eyes were on the road, "in a _formal_ relationship. So there's nothing to be excited about. And… and… we don't want to jinx it." I hoped Mac would contribute to the conversation but clearly His Highness wasn't interested.

He flashed his little fangs at me. "I geddit. S'like 'testing the waters' or somethin' like that, right?" he nodded, leaning back. _Yeah, something like that_.

"Danny," he said firmly. "There is _no relationship_. Just focus on what we'll be doing."

That shut us up.

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_A/N 2: I might've gone over on this one. It's a bit OC for my taste. But hey, the writers are on strike, right? So no canon character to follow hahaha…._

_VaveAme92 – of course there is a different side to Mac. After all, he's a guy ;)_

_MJ – tee-hee, can't have a chapter with no Flack or Danny. _

_Rebandmel – thanks for reading! Yeah, since the writers are on strike…. LOL_

_Justawritier – I am in love with Flack. Period. Haha._

_Mo – kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss… KISS!!!_

_Mandi – Angel is my favorite fictional character EVER! And her relationship with Collins is sooo dang sweet and there should be a different story/play made about that. So the part where she dies in Collin's arms… so heartbreaking. Btw, my friends and I performed FINALE B in a charity fundraiser last well – part of my lack of updates haha._

_Lioness – thanks for pointing that out. Yeah, I realized it too late._


	15. Problem

_**A/N: Yay for my fast update. Boo for the short chapter. LOL.**_

_**I'm stuck on my Mara-centric fic so I decided to go back to my grassroots… ANGST.**_

_**Enjoy!**_

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The rest of the day was a total opposite of that morning. The ease and comfortableness I felt with Mac in my house was nowhere in sight back at the lab. At first, it was okay – Danny would be interviewing the witnesses, Mac and I would be taking care of the scene. He would be working one end and I would be on the other, bagging whatever I could find. I'd glance at him from time to time like before and he would glance back. He checked on me twice while we're processing. For any other person watching, it would be just like any other crime scene.

Actually, I couldn't concentrate having him around. It was a chore for me to focus on what was on my forceps. I just bagged it and labeled it as 'unknown particle' – only it turned out to be a torn candy wrapper when I looked at it again in the lab. My hands were shaking with anxiety and I didn't know where it was coming from. The two times Mac went over to my side to check, I actually got pissed off and told him off on it.

The one time Danny put me up to speed with what he gathered, I jumped up in surprise when put his hand on my shoulder. "Easy there, Stella. Are you okay?" he asked after I got my wits back. "You're sweatin'. You alright?" Atop of that, I was also catching my breath.

"Yeah, yeah… just," I searched around for a reason, "I was just thinking." _Distracted _was more like it.

"You sure?" Danny asked, giving me his handkerchief to wipe off my sweat. I nodded and thanked him. "Might need to take a break. I'll take over if you want."

"I'm fine, Danny. Thank you," I sighed, finally controlling my heart. "So what do you have?"

Back in the lab, it was very convenient that the Ballistics lab was not encased in glass. Firing the gun we confiscated was a stress-reliever. Not to mention being alone in a soundproofed room. I've done these tests before. Firing a gun and testing myself for the placing of GSR.

For a while, I forgot about Mac. He reverted back from being my _more-than-just-a-friend_ to my _boss_. A convenient reminder of that invisible line that I was not supposed to cross. I called him to the Ballistics room and reported my findings.

"Our suspect claimed to have shot the victim; that we could be sure since she had residue all over her hand. Yet the fingerprint on the trigger wasn't hers," he said after hearing what I've said.

"Yeah, either she wore gloves just on her fingers or her GSR is just transfer," I supplied, leaning against the wall and looking at the gun.

He was thinking, too. Mac would have an intense look on his face, his lips reduced to a thin line while his eyebrows knit together. "What if…" he started. He snapped up and said to me, "Assume a shooting stance." I did and waited for him to continue. He didn't speak for a moment.

"What now?" I asked. He told me to release the safety latch. "And?"

Mac stood behind me and covered my hands with his; not touching the gun. His arms were parallel with mine and we were touching; my back flush to his chest. He placed his lips near my ear and whispered, "Now shoot."

For a moment, I stopped breathing. I remembered the warmth… _the heat_. His breath against my cheek was rendering me motionless and for a while there, I couldn't think. My heart was doing the jig in my chest and it was getting harder to breathe. He had to repeat his order before I finally fired the weapon.

It was like he felt nothing. As soon as I fired, he let go and swabbed his hands. I put the empty gun down and held the edge of the frame to calm myself down. I drummed the fingers of my right hand while my left held on until my knuckles turned white.

"Positive for gun shot residue," he said. "And I bet yours will not have any yet it'll be your fingerprint on the trigger." I heard him like he was far away. My heart was palpitating and I was panting. My pulse was racing. My head was reeling. And I wasn't feeling very well. It was like a panic attack. When I didn't answer, that got him worried, "Stella? Is there a problem?"

"Problem? _Problem!_" I exploded. I faced him and I just lost it. "How do you do what you do? Forget the last 24 hours as if _nothing_ happened? As if it _meant_ nothing. Is there a switch you turn on and off? _Poof_, time for work, 'Good morning, I am Detective Mac Taylor; don't _fuck_ with me because a bug crawled up my _rectum_ and died there.' And then _poof_ _again_, end of shift! 'Stella, is it okay if I come up with you and sleep in my birthday suit?'" He backed up against the wall. "Now you come in _here_ in the middle of _my_ experiment and, and…" I took a deep breath, "and did… did what you just did! You want to hold hands? Well, my dear Taylor – you could've just asked and skipped that entire gun, GSR testing technique crap you did. But oh, rules are rules and thou shalt not violate thy rules. No fraternizing with people you work with, right?" I walked over to him, invading his personal space but I couldn't see his face. I was so out of it. "Well, guess what – _you_ broke _your own_ rules. _Twice_." First time was Peyton and then with me.

I took the gun and the bullets and made my way to the door. "Stella, wait…" I heard him say.

"You know what, Mac," I wheeled around and pointed my finger at him, "I'm not like you who can turn off their feelings at will. Back in the car, Danny _already_ knows. So what's there to hide?"

"Stella, I'm not…" he started but it was clear that he doesn't have anything to say.

"Not what?" I challenged. "I think this is why _she_ broke up with you. You're simply too _insensitive_ to feel that she needed support from you – that I think she almost felt _alone_ in the relationship. Trying to make it work even if she knew that without the other cooperating, it's a lost cause. What, you're too mortified to let your subordinates know that you, _the Mac Taylor_ is capable of loving someone? That you let someone be close to your high horse?" By then, I knew I was crying and I was hitting below the belt.

He was examining the leather of his shoes, clenching and unclenching his fists.

I had to get out of there. "_No relationship_. If that's what you want," I took a deep breath, forcing myself to disregard everything he said to me from that afternoon in his kitchen, "_then you got it_."

My footsteps were hollow. The echoes of my heels against the floor were the only things I hear on my way to the layout room. The tears had long dried on my cheeks when I found Danny talking to Flack in the said room. I barged in there, empty gun in hand and a case file. "Hey Stell," Flack said good-naturedly, both men oblivious to my distress.

Which was a good thing. I don't think I could stand neither concern nor pity from anyone at the moment. Like _he_ said, "Focus on what we're doing." _Yessir_, loud and clear.

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_Alebarda – thanks for mentioning it. I've changed it in my original copy._

_Cjfun – well, I guess this chapter explains Mac's reaction from the previous chapter._

_Marti – haha, my Spanish is okay-ish. LOL._

_Mo – you know I love you, right? I promise… it's all uphill from here._

_Okay, I'll go back downloading Roméo et Juliette, de la Haine à l'Amour songs._


	16. Cute and Fluffy One

_**A/N: It's my brother's birthday today. He's 15. **_

_**Btw, I've written two D/F fics. I posted one on my LJ. Been thinking (really hard) of posting it also here… XD**_

_**Anyway, if D/F isn't your thing, just read this and review. Thanks!**_

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_Oh, well I'm going home,_

_Back to the place where I belong,_

_And where your love has always been enough for me._

I was caught off-guard by Stella's flare-up. But I still stood there and took it. If there is one woman who could shut me up, that's her. What I expected however was her reference to Peyton and the reason for the breakup.

And the truth behind it.

The truth behind _everything_ she said.

But what she didn't know was that there was another reason for the breakup. Bigger than any of those she mentioned. _Her._

Peyton, I must admit was always there for me. Too much so that I felt a bit suffocated. For the longest time since I lost Claire, I was alone. I went home to an empty house, made dinner for one person, and had a whole king-size bed all to myself. I got used to the life of the _lonely ones_.

And also, for the longest time – _Stella was just my friend._

I don't know exactly when Stella stopped being just a friend and colleague. It kind of just happened. There wasn't any sparks or light bulb moments or sudden epiphanies. I couldn't remember when I _fell in love_ with her. The question that was actually in my mind was "_was I ever _not_ in love with her?_"

For as long as I knew Stella, I had always put her at the top of my list. I had her back, she had mine; whenever she needed someone, I was there as she was there for me. She was my go-to guy – _girl_ – when I needed to sound off. She never complained. And she didn't tell me things I _wanted_ to hear. She would tell me everything I _needed_ to hear. And even if I didn't want to hear it, I _listened_ to her.

And it comforted me. Even with the most scathing truths like this one, it _comforted_ me. In that way, Stella was my rock; kept me grounded and sane.

The sound of the door creaking open brought me back. It was Flack looking for me. "Stella said I'd find you here, Mac," the taller detective said. It was about work. Apparently, she gave no hint of what previously happened. I walked with Flack to the break room to discuss the case so far. His lips were moving but I didn't understand half of what he was saying. Sure I was replying but work became mechanical to me.

Stella was right in assuming that I might have gotten a switch in me to turn on and off different aspects of my life. _A robot_. I gave Flack all the answers and insights he needed but my brain was off somewhere else.

She avoided me the rest of the day. She gave all her results to Danny and sat out the interrogation. By quitting time, she had already gone home – probably trying to dodge my standing offer to drive her home. It was for the better, I guess. Neither of us was up to a _conversation_ anyway.

I tried to sleep. I couldn't. I stared at the ceiling for a good part of the night, replaying what she said in my head.

What distanced me from Peyton? What went wrong in that relationship? She wanted too much when what I had to give was too little. She gave a lot yet I didn't need any of it. She was there but I never went to her. She tried to understand something I didn't want her too. The time we spent in London was awkward at the most – I was out of my comfort zone and I didn't know how to act, how to handle it.

Most of all, I realized how much Stella meant to me; that a few days apart made me miss her so badly. And I came back, only to mess up the best thing I ever had. My friendship with Stella was the only thing that was keeping me sane because I knew that even if all the world fall apart, she'll be there for me. _Always_. Now, I wasn't not so sure if I still have that.

0o0o0o0o0

I wanted to mend what I tore apart. To change for the better. _For her_.

Three cases came to us the next week. I assigned her to work with Lindsey and I. We met up with Flack at the precinct after processing the scene, the victim's apartment building. Lindsey and Stella were talking to each other, the younger CSI including me to the conversation from time to time. Stella wouldn't even look at me.

Flack explained that the victim, Troy Samson was in the city to buy a dress for his fiancé. The fiancé, Christine was with him. Witnesses from the wedding apparel store said that the two seemed very sweet, Christine hugging Troy every time he made a choice that she liked and kissing his cheek after they paid for the expensive dress.

"The cashier even said and I quote, 'They did everything but have a go at it on the carpet in front of me. Of course, there's the dressing rooms, who knows?', unquote," Flack said, closing his notepad.

"The dressing room was clean, I checked it," Lindsey said.

The detective acted like he didn't hear her and continued, "The store, 'Tying the Knot' is popular with the wedding crowd since they carry high-end dresses at discount prices. Not to mention connection to wedding and events coordinators, color themes… you name it." Stella smirked at Flack. He produced a brochure and smirked back. "Not any time soon, Stella." She nodded and chuckled.

"The killing is similar with the Jordan Lewis homicide two months ago," I supplied. "Came from the same store two days before he was killed, also with the fiancé, buying a dress, shoes and hiring an events coordinator." I pulled another file. "And Victor Baez, too, about six months ago."

"So you're thinking we have a serial killer here?" Lindsey asked, going over both files.

"We don't think, Lindsey – we _know_," Flack said. "In all his victims, one bullet through the heart and a green Post-It note saying, 'Can't get married now, ei?' pasted on the victim's left hand. Left ring finger cut off. He also leaves candies at the scene."

"Probably to signify how _sweet_ the couple was when he targeted them," Stella contributed to the conversation. We all nodded. "This guy is dangerous."

"But he's predictable," I said, facing her. She didn't flinch unlike the other times I looked at her today. She even nodded. "He probably frequents the vicinity of the store or better yet, an employee."

"Right," she smiled. I heard Flack sigh and chuckle. He knew that the conversation is turning from a four-way to a two-way exchange between Stella and I. "He probably follows the couple around, posing as your friendly sales personnel."

"Now all we have to do is to stakeout the place, probably pose someone at the scene," she finished.

This time, Flack stood between us and said, "Wrong." The three of us looked at him. "You two," pointing to Stella and I, "are going undercover."

Stella dropped the folder she was reading, pictures and papers spilling out. Her jaw was slack and her eyes were wide. "You're kidding, right?" she said shakily. Flack's knowing smile said everything – and that he had no clue that things aren't fine and dandy between Stella and I.

He shook his head, "No. Department's orders."

"But why us?" I asked. Surprisingly, my voice was also shaky. Flack only winked. "You volunteered us, didn't you?"

"Me? No, sir," he laughed. "First thing out of the chief's mouth: 'Go send Taylor and Bonasera'." There was that smile again.

Lindsey, feeling left out, asked, "Why them?"

"Why not them?" Flack countered, still looking at the both of us.

Stella recovered and cleared her throat. "What are we supposed to do… _exactly_?" She collected the files and leaned on a desk to steady herself.

"Oh nothing much," the homicide detective said coolly. "Act like a sickeningly sweet couple probably hunting for a dress, rings, wedding decorations… _you know_. Holding hands and lovey-dovey like." Even a blind man could see that he was implying what happened at the basketball game.

"Boy, I _have_ to see _that_!" Lindsey said from behind us. _If you only knew._ Flack just smiled.

Stella looked at me as if gauging whether or not I'd go with it. I could tell she was hesitant. Flack looked expectant – waiting for a positive reply. Lindsey's face split into a huge grin.

"We'll be wearing wires, won't we?" I asked.

"Not exactly but a couple of my men and I will be ready for back up," Flack replied. "So what do you say?"

Agreeing on this without talking to Stella first would be unfair to her. Even if this is in the line of duty. If Flack asked us a week ago, we would've said 'yes' right away. But after what happened yesterday…

"When do you need us?" Stella said, standing up straight and crossing her arms over her chest. She glanced at me as if saying, "I'm not doing this without you." _I wouldn't either_.

The homicide detective smiled and said he'd call his boss first for information. After a short phone call, he said to us, "11:30 a.m. tomorrow. We'll be dropping you off two blocks from the store so you have to walk to the place… time to get into character." His voice dropped and he chuckled to himself.

"What?" Lindsey asked for the three of us.

"Nothing," he bit his lip. What he said sounded like, _not that you need it_. "Anyway, we'll park across the street and we'll have another undercover to follow you inside in case something happens. The transmitter will not be on your person but probably in a purse or something."

"So that means I should dig up a cute, fluffy one," Stella laughed humorlessly.

All throughout the informal briefing, Flack kept on emphasizing that we should, "Hold hands, snuggle. Stella, gush about every little thing and Mac, act uninterested but offer suggestions." He even added, "You know how that works; you've been married once before."

The memories made me smile. When Claire was planning for our wedding, she wanted me off-limits. She picked her dress, my tux, the food, the place and everything else in it. My picture of a bride-to-be wasn't what Flack was asking for – an excited, obsessive, and clingy. Instead, Claire was stressed, bossy, and a bit detached.

That left me smiling. And Lindsey picked up on it. "Good thoughts, Mac?" she inquired. I just nodded.

I happened to glance at Stella. She was smiling warmly. When all things were settled, Flack and Lindsey left us to talk. When we were alone, Stella couldn't look me in the eyes. I walked over to her and asked, "Are we good?" Usually when working, the relationship I had with my co-worker is irrelevant. But given the circumstances of what we were about to do (and who I was doing it with), I had to make sure.

She looked at me and sighed. "I was stupid, Mac," she said with a defeated tone. "I should have known better. Instead, I became like them. I asked too much right away." She gripped me by the elbow and continued, "I'm sorry."

If we weren't in the precinct, I would've grabbed her in my arms and kissed her, tell her it was okay. But I guess it would have to wait until tomorrow. I stroked the back of her hand gently and said, "It's okay. I apologize, too." After all, I treated her the same way I treated the _others_. She didn't deserve that. "Are we okay?" I repeated.

Stella was about to reply when the door creaked open. "Geez, guess we don't need to drop you off to put you in character." _Flack_.

"What can I say? Practice makes perfect, Don," Stella was back to her bubbly self. "And _experience_ is the best teacher." She left the room with a wink.

Flack turned to me and said, "I am really rooting for you guys. All of us are." He clapped me on the shoulder and left the room.

It felt kind of good to have a few people know about the 'relationship' – if I could call it that right now. It felt freer and lighter than having it kept secret. And it was nice to know that our friends approve of it. I went back to work, looking forward to the coming days.

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_Fruitbat00 – thanks for you insights, I really appreciate the POV. I hope this chapter answers why the previous chapter was like that. _

_Mo – as promised. :)_


	17. Uncle Jack

_**A/N: OMG! Loooooong time no update. But hey, it's Christmas vacation for me now. This is a long chapter. And I must admit, I unleashed the OOC-ness and fluffiness here. I actually enjoyed the fluff here. But keep in mind, it's OOC because Mac and Stella are **_**undercover**_** here. ;)**_

_**So yeah, enjoy! Please review.**_

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As I clocked in the next day, I found Danny leaning against the threshold of my office. He had his trademark Cheshire grin on his face. "What?" I asked, knowing already what he wanted to ask.

"Heard that you and Stella will be undercover as newlyweds," he said, following me in my office. "Not too hard a job, yeah?"

I had to sigh. Let it be known that Danny Messer never gives up. I threw my coat and bag on my chair and answered, "_Planning_ a wedding, Danny. _Not_ newlyweds. Nothing to get excited about."

"Quite the contrary," he said, looking comfortable on the couch in my office. "I'm excited." I glared at him.

"Your point?"

He stood up and happily said, "Flack and I are following you in the store. We'll be two guys looking to buy an engagement ring for our non-existent girlfriends." He handed me an outline of the operation. "We'll be approaching you guys when you head to the ring department, ask for tips maybe – just to make it look natural. Stella already knows about it."

Right then, Stella, Lindsey, Sheldon and Flack entered the room. "The gang's all here, Mac," Danny stated the obvious. The other two cases were closed and putting a serial killer behind bars became our shift's main objective. Stella was dressed in a V-neck knit shirt, deep blue and sleeveless. She had on black slacks and espadrilles. Her 'cute' purse was the a beaded purse I gave her for her birthday three years ago. The same one she was using when she picked me up from the airport.

"Your names will be Martin Irving and Xenia Driva," Flack started, handing us fake credit and business cards. "Both of you are working for a law firm and are living together for three years. 'Wedding'," he said with the quotation marks in the air, "will be next year. Everyone's invited except Uncle Jack."

"Who?" I asked. _Who the _hell_ is Uncle Jack?_ But then again, Flack could be just joking.

"Oh come on, we all have that," he laughed. "You know, the one uncle who gets loud and drunk and crazed even before the party started. Embarrasses the hell outta everybody."

_Oh_…_ him._ That would be 'Uncle Ralph' in my family. "Anything else we have to know?" I asked.

"I'm sure Danny-boy over here already blabbed about it," the taller guy said. "We'll be the ones following you in. Doc here, and Lindsey will stay outside with the uniforms. We can't risk planting another girlfriend-boyfriend couple in there with you." Because the perp might follow _them_ instead of _us_.

Stella was quiet for most of the briefing. We were in the car, on the way to the drop-off point when she spoke. "I don't know what I'm doing," she chuckled. We were in the backseat of the unmarked squad car, a detective on the wheel.

"It's just _planning_ for a _wedding_," I said. "You'll do fine." I held her hand and squeezed. "Think about how you want your _own_ wedding."

I felt her tense up when I said that. She looked at me, the corner of her lips curling upwards to a smile. We held that moment until a cough from the front seat interrupted us. "Detectives, I'm dropping you off here," the other detective said. "Good luck and I hope we catch this SOB." I helped Stella out of the car; the SUV carrying the tech and the rest of the team drove past us.

The streets were crowded at this time of day. The sun was high and bright, a soft breeze (and smog) around us. Neither of us was wearing an earpiece so the final directions we took were from the detective/driver. The microphone transmitter was in Stella's handbag swinging on her left arm.

When the car drove away to join the rest of the team, I offered my hand to Stella. She didn't take it; instead, she looped her arm around mine and placed her head on my shoulder. "Well, _Martin_?" she sighed as we started walking the two blocks. "So nice of you to go shopping with me."

I kissed the top of her head. "Anything for my _Xenia_," I whispered back. Stella giggled and snuggled even closer.

We arrived at the store and a young woman welcomed us inside. It was fairly early for wedding shoppers but there was a bevy of women huddled together by the shoe rack. We took our time taking in the surroundings. It was almost as big as the floor area of the lab. On the far left were the racks and racks of gowns ranging in sizes from flower girl to mother of the bride, in all colors. A smaller section was allotted for the men's wear. To the right were the shoes. Right in the middle was a display of a complete wedding package: gown, veil, flowers, shoes, and rings.

Stella – _Xenia_ tugged my sleeve and excitedly led me to the display. Her face had no sign of the scared and reluctant Stella in the car earlier. Her eyes were wide and she was excited. "Oh honey bear, look at this!" she gushed. Wait… '_Honey bear'_?

"Xenia, baby," that was the best that I could do at the moment, "that's a bit too much, don't you think? Lugging on a mile-long train on grass wouldn't be…" The off-white dress had a god knows how long lace train.

I didn't get to finish because she pouted and whimpered. "But honey, you said I can have _anything_ I want," she looked cute when irritated.

I can see it now, Flack and Danny rolling on the floor laughing… at _honey bear_. But hey, what can I do? _Payback_.

"I know but I don't want no dress to hide all these…" I paused, faced Stella and ran my hands on her sides, stopping at the hips. Dangerously close to her bottom. She sucked in a breath as I pulled her close and planted a slow kiss on her lips. The mannequin hid us effectively from the New York streets. I made sure that a smack was heard when we separated. By that time, Lindsey's and Sheldon's jaws must've hit the ground.

"Mmm… I thought you didn't want the world to see what is for your eyes only," she teased, toying with the top button of my shirt. She winked and slid the bag closer to our voices.

"I just want to leave enough to the imagination, you little wild cat," I said, my voice low. We laughed and kissed again. This time, Stella moaned suggestively. That sent an uncomfortable but not an unwelcome sensation to a part of my male anatomy. And I was _sure_ that the persons listening were having the same problem.

I was leaning in for another kiss when somebody tapped my shoulder. I looked behind me and saw a small man, balding and on the heavy side, but was dressed smartly. The detective in me awoke. Killers can come in all shapes and sizes.

"Sir, Ma'am, as much as we encourage love and passion in our store, this is still quite a public place," he said in a squeaky voice. His nametag said, 'Brock'. "Short for Broderick," he supplied, offering his hand. "I will be your personal shopper today."

It was either Stella was really pleased to meet him or she was an incredibly good actress. "Xenia and Martin," she said, shaking Brock's hand earnestly "Soon-to-be _Missus Irving_!" she added with a girly giggle. "Oh isn't this great, honey bear? I didn't think I could do this alone."

"Well, ma'am," Brock curtseyed, "that is what we're here for. Where should we start?"

Okay, I should be uninterested. But Stella's enthusiasm was infectious. "It'll be an afternoon-sunset event. It's going to be indoors but there'll be a gazebo-like structure where the reception will be held." She faced me and took one of my hands. "Martin and I would love to have our pictures taken with the sunset in the background."

Brock was taking notes like a detective. "Romantic," he commented. His eyes were trained on our body language. I wrapped a protective arm around Stella to keep up with the act. "Color theme?"

"No pink," I said right away. Stella pouted. "Come on, baby – we had a very pink engagement party." I stroked her cheek when she looked down. "Pick another color, please."

She looked up and smiled. "How about orange and yellow?" she suggested. "A very summery feel."

"Yellow and orange," Brock repeated, scribbling away. It was so easy to forget that he was also there. "Great! It would look nice against the lady's green eyes." Stella smiled shyly. "Should we look for dresses first?"

Stella dragged me to the dress racks. Brock started pulling out white to peach-colored gowns. She felt the fabrics of each and she pulled one out from the bunch. It was a stark white halter dress with beaded accents, and a yellow chiffon belt around the waist. "Sweetie…" she sighed in delight. Stella placed the dress before her and looked at herself in the mirror.

I didn't care anymore whether it was Stella or Xenia I was talking to. She looked heavenly. I imaged the dress would fit her very well, displaying her back and shoulders. I sidled behind her and wrapped my arms around her, dress and all. "You look so beautiful," I said in her ear. "You smell so _good_."

She threw her head back, eyes never leaving our reflection on the mirror. "Then take a picture, counselor," she whispered back.

"Oh so you're a lawyer, sir? Where?" Brock made his presence known. Hmm… probably fishing for information.

"Yes," I answered, disentangling myself from Stella. I handed him 'my' card. "Met Xenia on the job, too. Do well for us today and I might give you a professional discount." Brock smiled, perfect teeth. "Which reminds me… Baby?" I turned to Stella dancing with the dress. "We have a meeting with Mr. Cohen later tonight. You coming?"

"Uhm-hm," she mumbled, still enamored by the dress. "Brock, be a dear and see if I can reserve this pretty little thing."

"No need for me to go, ma'am," he said. He wrote the serial number of the dress, 'Mr. and Mrs. Irving' and his signature on a form, and slipped it into the tag of the dress.

"Convenient," I praised.

Brock was still reading 'my' card. "Your office is not far from here, I see. Did you guys walk?" We nodded, Stella cuddling my arm. "No office hours?"

"You know how clients are…" she said. "Crazy hours. But most of those hours, we're just doing paperwork. You can drop in anytime just for a chat." She winked at me.

The man's eyes lit up and for the life of me, his tongue peeked out from the seam of his lips. "Really now?"

"Yeah… although Martin and I don't have the same office," she continued. She was catching him. "Mine's on the 34th floor and his is on the 35th. _Bummer_."

"That's unfortunate," Brock said rather sarcastically. Silence enveloped us.

"Shoes!" Stella cried out, getting the attention of half the store. She again dragged me to the next item of business. "Brock dearie," she said, turning around, "yellow or gold?" She was dangling two pairs of shoes in her hands, the same design but different color. The heels were three inches long.

"Baby, I don't want you to injure yourself on our wedding…" I began but she shushed me with a kiss.

"Extra height for me to kiss you better," she said against my lips. I can only imagine how the team would react to what we are doing. The man seemed to favor the gold shoes so he did the same things as he did with the dress. "Lovely."

Brock checked out 'dress' and 'footwear' from his list. "How about rings?"

"Yes," I sighed, implying that I was least interested in that.

"Oh _pookie_," that was the codeword for Danny and Flack to enter. Somehow, Stella made Brock as _the guy_. "How can you match the engagement ring you gave me? Big hunk of rock, gold."

"Do you have it with you?" Brock asked as we followed him to the jewelries.

"Nope, safely in my box back home," she said. "Under all of Martin's socks."

Brock's eyes lit up again. "You live together?" I told him that we do. "Nice, very nice."

I spotted Danny and Flack make their way over to us discreetly. "Honey, should we get matching bands or something else for me?" Stella as Xenia asked, her fingers trailing up and down my arm.

Danny and Flack arrived at the case with the rings and Brock greeted them. "How're you doing, gentlemen. Can I help you?"

"Ah yes," Danny stammered. "Am plannin' to propose to my lady."

Flack was unnoticeably checking out the target. "Same here." He paused to scan the rings and said, "That!" pointing to a thin ring with a painfully small stone.

"Oh boys," Stella cooed, "you can do better than that." She placed herself between the men and started with the story. "My hubby-to-be over there," pointing to me, "gave me the shiniest Whitman Price diamond ring when he proposed to me. I thought the man, bless his soul, was only great in making jeweled underwear but Martin somehow managed to find a peach of a rock for me."

Their eyes were trained on me. Danny, I could see was having trouble not to laugh. "Yeah, he _was_ the diamond bra guy," he said. He should know – that was his case.

She made her way back to me, facing away from Brock. "A guy like this," she said, looping her arms around my middle, "is hard to find."

From where Brock was standing, he could not see Stella's face. She winked at the detectives and kissed the back of my neck. "Baby, do we really need to finalize all these now?" I said.

"Honey bear, it's either now or we'll be backed up with all those cases again," she whined. I heard Danny's stifled laughter behind us.

Flack decided to feed the fire. "You love birds been together long?" he asked.

"Long enough," Stella/Xenia said. "And let me tell you, Martin Irving is the _sweetest_ man I've ever met. We can't wait to get _married_," she stressed the last word and arched her eyebrow.

Brock was _still _taking notes, nervously shifting his weight from foot to foot. "Have you made your decision?" he squeaked, referring to the rings.

Stella walked slowly in front of him and almost invaded his personal space. She was a few inches taller than him. "_I've _decided to take the wedding bands. After all, I know how a W. Price diamond looks on my finger," she said simply. "If there are any more concerns, do not hesitate to contact us at the office or this number." She handed him a piece of paper with the address of an apartment set up as a decoy by the NYPD. "But tonight we will be home by 10 after our client's dinner."

Brock's eyes widened. "You'll hear from me, for sure," he said, a smile spreading on his face. "Thank you."

"Martin, let's go," Stella said, taking my hand. "You still owe me _lunch in bed_." She winked and I knew that lunch was the last thing Xenia and Martin would do in bed. "I'll just drop by Saks – you go right ahead and surprise me, okay?"

"Thanks, Brock," I said as I was being dragged away.

"Lovely couple," I heard Flack say casually. And Danny finally laughed.

CSINYCSINYCSINYCSINY

_MJ – haha, imagine Mac and Stella doing what is written here _

_Mo – I have been planning a party for six months now so the scenes above are pretty accurate things that really happen in a wedding/events store. LOL._


	18. Easy

_**A/N: Second to the last chapter. Major apologies for the lack of updates last month. I got caught up in a lot of things: school, events, Australian Open 2008, and such.**_

_**But I hope you guys are still with me. Just one more chapter and it's all over.**_

_**Thank you very much!**_

CSINYCSINYCSINYCSINY

_I'm not running from_

_No, I think you got me all wrong_

As soon as we exited 'Tying the Knot', I pulled Mac into the SUV across the street. Hawkes and Lindsey were smiling at us so much that I thought they had face-lifts. "Man, that was _golden_," Hawkes said, clapping Mac on the back.

Lindsey hugged me and chuckled. "Honey bear? _Pookie_?" she chuckled. "Genius, Stella!" The vehicle started moving (just around the block, for show) and we could clearly hear Danny and Flack over the wires.

"Do you think he's the guy?" Hawkes asked. "Sounded creepy to me."

"He is creepy, especially when you see him," I answered. "How he smiled at every little piece of personal information we supplied. And his eyes looked sinister."

"Well, we have to wait until he strikes," Mac said, wiping the sweat off his brow.

I made the guy the moment he started walking over to us. I initiated all that making out when I saw him follow us with his eyes. My theory was strengthened when I saw his notepad. It wasn't of information about Martin and Xenia's wedding. Instead, he wrote where our characters worked and lived, as well as the length of the relationship and how it all began.

I looked at Mac and said, "And you'll be his next victim." I was scared for him even though I have complete faith in Flack and his team. I saw the bodies of this guy's previous victims. It was enough to make me sick – and I've seen all that there is.

He saw my worries. He took my hand and offered me a smile. "I'll be fine, Stella. He won't even touch me."

"Brock man just left the building," Danny's voice crackled over the radio. "Flack and I will trail him. You guys go on ahead to the place."

We made our way to the decoy apartment. En route, the tech guy wired Mac up. We parked and he went up with two plainclothes officers. "He's going to be okay, Stella," Lindsey reassured me. Sheldon gave me a smile.

My hunch was validated when we saw Brock, now clad in a black floor-length trench coat and gray fedora, sneaking around the corner and into the fire escape ladder of the building. The tech radioed those in the building that he was coming up. Not five minutes after, there was a struggle – glass breaking, wood splintering, thuds and thumps, and shouting. My hands were shaking the whole time.

"What is happening?" Lindsey inquired over the line.

"We have him," one of the officers said. "He's our guy for sure."

"How about Detective Taylor?" I almost screamed at the radio. "How is he?" I didn't care about what Sheldon and Lindsey thought at that moment.

There was some static and movement from the other line until, a chuckle, "I'm fine, Stella." _Mac_. I sighed in relief. "We played piggyback for a moment until the officers managed to pull him off. I'm on my way down. Lindsey, Sheldon – on standby for processing of his person."

"You need processing, too, Mac," Sheldon said. We saw him exit the building with two officers. He looked up to the tinted van, where we were, and smiled.

I saw his smile and I knew it was directed to me. "I'll take care of that," I said to them, yanking the door open and walking across the street to meet him and the ambulance. There was a second car waiting for us that transported our kits.

Mac was yanking off the wire from under his shirt. I raised my arms to hug him but he backed away saying, "I'm evidence, remember?" We laughed and I snapped on gloves. More officers exited the building and that batch included our serial killer, Brock a.k.a. Broderick North. As he was passing by, his eyes were on us. Only this time, we weren't Xenia and Martin anymore.

"I guess we'll be canceling the reservations now," I said to him as the group stopped in front of us. "I never liked yellow anyway." His stare was hard as rocks but it didn't get to me. "I hope you like orange though. It doesn't match your eyes but it will have to do. Take him away."

I got back to Mac and he said, "Feisty. I like it. It's attractive on you." I smiled shyly… even blushing a bit. I started tape-lifting his coat and shirt. There wasn't much but it was procedure. "He had a gun in his hand when he jumped on me. It was the same caliber as the one used in previous murders. A pack of candies fell out of his pocket as he was pushed against the wall. He also had a knife – for slicing off the…"

"Can you just _please_ save the statement for Flack?" I said rather forcefully. I met his eyes as I discarded my gloves. "You're scaring me." I looked down again.

Mac sighed and placed his hand on my shoulder. "It's over now, Stella," he whispered, eyes kind and solemn. "I'm okay. No reason to be afraid."

The chief gave us the rest of the day off and a pat on the back for a job well done. Mac and I decided to go to our respective homes and meet up for dinner later that day.

McDonalds was a far cry from the French bistro he took me to on our last night out. But I enjoyed it just the same. Over fries and cheeseburgers, we talked and laughed about what happened earlier in the day. I actually made Brock as the suspect faster than Mac did. The conversation went on to the other patrons of the store.

"_Man_, does it really take _that much_ work and stress to plan just for _one day_?" I asked with a fry in my mouth.

"It's not just any one day, Stella. It's _the _one day," he explained. "Every little girl's dream is to be a princess, right? So her wedding day could be that chance to be one."

I sat back and smiled. "True, true. But come on, all that work for a _single_ day? You _can_ get married through a judge or something. And how about those who re-marry so much and so sudden? It's like changing socks. Lavish celebrations _every single_ time."

Mac seemed to consider that. "Don't be too cynical. Some actually cherish every ceremony no matter how many he or she goes through." He drank his iced tea and said with all seriousness, "A wedding is only as special as the man or woman you're sharing it with."

And then he looked me in the eye as if he wanted to say more. Instead, he reached across the table for my hand. His thumb traced circles on my knuckles as he held my gaze.

"I…" my face was flushing, "I really enjoyed planning a wedding with you today." And I really did. Even if it was just an act. I almost got carried away when I saw the dress. Now I know what's the big fuss about finding the _perfect_ dress. The exhilaration of picking the _perfect_ elements for _the_ day.

And Mac was right. It was as special as the person you're sharing it with. He squeezed my hand once more and let go. "I had fun, too," he said, folding the wrapper of his cheeseburger. "I wouldn't mind seeing you in that dress you 'picked'. That was gorgeous."

I honestly liked that dress. That was why I picked it out from the bunch. I never dreamed of having a big princess-y frilly dress on my wedding day. I wanted just my closest friends to be my witnesses – with the man of my dreams standing beside me.

An awkward silence was shared between us, as we got ready to go. "Where to next?" he asked while he started the car.

_I'm happy where I am_, I felt like saying. He reached for my hand again. "How about your place?" I suggested. "We could… watch a movie… coffee… or _something_." I honestly did not mean anything with that 'something'. I just wanted to spend more 'non-work' time with Mac.

The glint in Mac's eyes told me that he liked the idea. He drove off to his place, his hand only leaving mine to change radio stations or shift gears.

When we arrived, he excused himself to make coffee. "Make yourself at home," he said. I'd been in his house a lot of times and I always felt welcome there. I knew that he placed two throw pillows at both ends of the couch. He had 4 National Geographic magazine issues on his coffee table and Reader's Digest beside his desktop computer.

I've always liked a man who knows his way around the kitchen. And Mac certainly is one of them. The first time he offered to cook us dinner _years_ ago, I actually laughed out loud. But I went along. Mac surprised me with a three-course meal complete with wine and dessert.

The dessert, he bought from a cake shop down the street. The dinner… "I can cook, Stella," he said after I finished one whole plate of his pasta recipe. I had nothing but praise at every forkful. "You have so little faith in me," he said in mock hurt. I countered by asking for is recipe. "Tsk… it's a secret."

"Hmph, I have to eat more of this until I memorize each taste, Mac," I joked. "But really… it's good."

There was clanging in the kitchen and the strong and soothing aroma of coffee brewing. I slipped my shoes off and tucked my feet under me. I hugged a maroon throw pillow as he placed a tray of coffee and cups on the table. "Black?" he asked.

"You know it," I answered. He poured us cups and he settled next to me. I snuggled closer and inhaled his scent. "So comfy…"

He kissed the top of my head. "You should go to sleep," he whispered. "It was a long day. For both of us."

"Are you kicking me out, Taylor?" I teased. We laughed. "How am I supposed to sleep with you offering me the strongest black coffee you could make?"

"Has that ever stopped you?" he said, taking a sip of that said liquid.

I considered that for a while and said, "Nope. But it was a fun day, right?"

Mac nodded and kissed me softly. Soon, the kisses turned more passionate. We placed the mugs on the table safely before I found myself lying on the couch with Mac half-on top of me. He warmed me up better than the coffee did.

Slowly, his hand traced the hem of my shirt, just teasing the skin of my stomach. His skin on mine shot a jolt of heat all over my body. I fisted my hands on the fabric of his sweater and pulled him closer. He peppered kisses on my collarbone and neck and up to my ears. And all I could do was reach for him and sigh at every contact of his lips on my heated skin.

"So good, Stella," he moaned against my cheek as he started to undulate his hips. I could easily feel his manhood through the layers of clothing we had on. And man, it made my legs turn into jelly. When he started to push my shirt up, it was all too much.

"Hey, easy…" I said, stopping his hands and sitting upright. I wiped my lips and caught my breath. Mac was sitting next to me, looking all hurt. "Mac…" I said, taking his hand, "Let's uh… let's take it slow. Can we?"

He blushed and smiled. "Yeah. Sorry," he said with a chuckle. He ran this hands through his hair and stood up. Mac placed a throw pillow he picked up from the floor on his lap. I needed not to ask why.

I had to calm myself down as well. I never wanted anybody else more than I wanted Mac. And I also felt that he wanted me too. "We'll get there, Mac. Remember?" I said. He smiled at the thought. How many times have we thrown that sentence around?

Mac held my hand and pulled me into his arms. "But _when_ would that be, Stella?" he sighed with a laugh.

"The guys know, you know," I segued. "About you and me." I looked up at him and smiled. "I'm glad they know."

"Me too," he admitted. To the both of us, the people we work with are as good as family. "Do you think they're happy for us?"

I nodded. I _know_ they were.

CSINYCSINYCSINYCSINY

_Lyner – thanks!_

_Marti – oh, I am not going to plan any more parties haha._


	19. End

A/N: Hello again

_**A/N: After two months, here it is. The closing chapter of "I'm Going Home". **_

_**It has been a long ride. I'm very proud of this piece and very thankful that so many of you read, commented, reviewed, and added this fic to your list. It's an honor for me to share this with you.**_

_**Apologies that it took so long. It's ironic that my muses dried up when I was writing this last chapter. Maybe they didn't want me to end it, ei? LOL. Anyway, I did my best and here it is. **_

_**For the final time for "I'm Going Home", read on and enjoy. Thanks!**_

CSINYCSINYCSINYCSINY

_I don't regret this life I chose for me._

_But these places and these faces are getting old._

_I said these places and these faces are getting old,_

_So I'm going home._

Even with his eyes closed, Mac Taylor knew that the room was bright. Give or take, mid-morning. The air around him was comfortable – not too warm, not too chilly – even in his present state of undress.

Mac felt the other half of the bed move. He tightened his arms around the other person he was sharing the bed with. He wasn't surprised that the person beside him was equally naked. He pressed his face against the thick curls in front of him and took a healthy whiff smelling of coconut.

The woman stirred and snuggled deeper into Mac's arms. He kissed her shoulder softly.

"Good morning, Mac," the woman mumbled against the pillow. She turned to face him and kissed the center of his chest.

"Good morning, Stella," he said softly, stroking her face and hugging her tighter. The sheets were tangled on their legs, a pillow or two thrown haphazardly on the floor, clothes strewn around the room… signs of what they did last night.

They stayed that way for long moments, just stroking each other's skin, kissing softly. There were no phone calls to interrupt them. The New York that they had to take care of was miles away from where they were.

"_Hmm_… did you have fun meeting my _mother_?" Stella said sleepily. She lifted one of her thighs and draped it over Mac's legs. "She likes you."

He chuckled and in response, he stroked the firm thigh. "Does she really? Gee, I must be really special then," he said, kissing her lips soundly.

They were in a quaint hotel in Greece – Stella's mother_land_. They took out another ten days out of their allotted vacation leaves to get away and spend time with each other. They were halfway through those ten days… and _yesterday_…

"Well, we got _there_, didn't we?" she smiled with a slight blush.

"Stella, we're _still there_," Mac replied, stroking and rubbing a little higher on her thigh and hip. She moaned softly and snuggled closer, pressing her breasts to his chest.

Things were getting more and more interesting until they heard a knock on the door and, "Room service. Breakfast."

Stella pushed Mac off her and asked, "Did you hang the 'do not disturb' sign there last night?" She gathered the sheets around her.

Mac pulled on a robe. "I know I did…" _Or did I?_ he thought. Stella went to the bathroom while Mac attended to the room service. Their hotel reservation included a complimentary breakfast cart. He gave the guy a nice tip and wheeled the cart into the room.

He found Stella washing her face in the bathroom. He sidled behind her and wrapped his arms around her from behind. "Hmm… good morning again," she chuckled with a little shimmy. "Aren't you _so_ glad to see me…"

"Breakfast's ready," he murmured. They exited the bathroom with their hands all over each other.

They took their breakfast cart to the balcony. The beautiful Greek morning provided a relaxing backdrop for the two. Stella was curled up beside Mac on a chaise lounge, both of them in robes. He fed her pieces of fruit while she shared a mug of hot chocolate with him. They exchanged sweet kisses in between bites.

"I'm worried about the lab," Mac said, breaking the silence.

Stella chuckled and sat up. "Ah don't worry, Mac," she said. "Danny's a big boy. He's responsible enough to take care of the lab. If not, we would've heard bad news by now." Mac didn't look convinced. "Aw, come on. Just five more days. And we'll be home."

"I'm already home," he whispered, kissing her softly. "It's where the heart is, am I right?" She shot him a puzzled look. "My heart is with you, Stella… always has been."

"I love you," she said softly, stroking his cheek. She buried her face against his neck and sighed contentedly.

They stayed that way until noon, getting up to finally take a bath and plan the rest of the day. Stella had been showing Mac around Athens and they were having the time of their lives. She surprised him with this trip after they wrapped up a rather controversial case back in New York. Secretly, Stella settled the vacation with their bosses, put Danny in command while they were gone, and booked the trip.

When Stella broke the news to Mac, they were to leave the next day. Mac looked at her sternly, "I have a feeling that I have been through this before…" It was true; Peyton did a similar thing some time ago. "And look at where that ended up."

She pouted and put her hands on her hips. "You don't _adore_ me?" Mac showed Stella how much he adored her that night.

"Is this adoration enough for you, Stella?" Mac asked after catching his breath. She could only nod and kiss his shoulder in reply.

At the airport the next day, Flack and Danny offered to see them off. The others wanted to tag along but they had on-going cases. As Mac and Stella approached the gate, Flack called out, "Are we expecting _three_ people to come back?"

Mac looked puzzled and Stella immediately blushed. Danny was smirking beside the taller detective. "Oh come on, Flack. Don't embarrass them," the CSI said to Flack with a mock punch. "Bye now. Before you miss your flight."

Stella half-dragged Mac towards the gate before the younger detectives could say anything else. But Mac _finally_ realized what Flack meant. He stopped mid-step and his face heated up. "Mac?" Stella asked, confused.

He looked at her and smiled sheepishly. They could hear Flack and Danny laughing behind them.

"Just kidding, Mac!" Flack said. Danny was laughing hysterically. "Have fun, you two."

Sitting in the plane, waiting for it to take off, Mac was silent. Stella was equally quiet, fidgeting with the buckle of her seatbelt. "Are you okay, Mac?" she finally asked, placing her hand on his.

He faced her and placed a soft kiss on her lips. "I'm good," he chuckled. "Took me a while there." Stella put her head on his shoulder and sighed happily.

"What? Are you bothered that they have an idea what _activities_ we are going to have in Greece?" Stella joked once the seatbelt sign turned off.

He laughed, startling the man sitting in front of him. Apologizing to the man, he turned to Stella, "A little bit. I mean," he chuckled, "it's embarrassing. Forget it."

"Aww… _Mac_. Messes with your 'I am the boss' image, doesn't it?" They laughed softly. Stella snuggled closer to him and added, "You're going to love Greece. I promise you that."

And he sure did. For the first five days, Stella took him to all the important places to see, foods to eat, sounds to hear. They enjoyed every minute of it. But most of all, he enjoyed spending time alone with Stella. No crime scenes, no call-outs, no late nights in a cold laboratory… just Mac and Stella.

On the fifth night, they made love with the fireworks of a party outside as their backdrop. The hotel was used as a venue for a wedding party, complete with music and fireworks. Mac and Stella were more than happy to just stay inside and enjoy each other.

_I'm going home._

When they flew back to New York, the lab was still in one piece, big cases were solved, and, "It's just Mac and I, Don," Stella said before the homicide detective could open his mouth.

They managed to separate work from romance quite successfully ­­­– even getting into heated arguments from time to time. Of course, they do share special touches, eye contact, and smiles here and there. Nothing inappropriate.

The relationship was accepted very well around the lab and their friends. Everybody respected their space, admired the two for their professionalism. Mac and Stella were very grateful for that. Even though they do share a romantic bond that never interfered with their work.

"I guess it's because we've been working together for such a long time," Stella said fondly to Lindsey when the younger CSI asked her about it, "that we fall naturally into it. I can read Mac so well and him, me… it's not like anything changed between us."

Mac said something similar to Sheldon. "With Stella and I, it's different. Our relationship is built on so many things – our friendship, work, our respect and understanding for each other… it takes a whole damn lot to bring it down."

"The weird thing is," Stella chuckled, "Mac _still_ makes me laugh with the smallest, simplest things. Who knew, after all these years, after all we've been through…"

"I guess that is what love is, you know," Mac said with a slight smile on his face. "It's when you look at the person you love, everyday, and she still surprises you."

Before going home after shift, Mac collected Stella into a warm hug and kissed her softly. She just sighed and sank deeper into his arms.

"This never gets old," Stella whispered, kissing Mac's chin.

"Yeah, it doesn't," he agreed, taking her hand and leading her home.

_**03/26/2008**_

CSINYCSINYCSINYCSINY

_ImSoMMAD – hey! Thank you very much for the kind words. It keeps me going. :) I'm glad you liked this fic._

_Mandi – LOL, I don't think I've written a fic with Stella ripping Mac's shirt off before hahahaha… I'll think about it. _

_A __**huge**__thank you to everyone!_


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